


witchcraft

by vonseal



Series: magic users [1]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: It's going to be cute you guys, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Minor Violence, Romance, Romantic Comedy, fun fact: i know nothing about magic, it feels like it's been a while since i wrote cutsie patootsie myungjin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-02 22:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10228439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal
Summary: Witches are supposed to be bad omens - and then there's Park Jinwoo.





	1. cowslip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was he evil? Myungjun asked his mom once, and she had cried and hugged him, but she never answered him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is magic, all i know is harry pooper.

Myungjun was six years old when he first experienced death.

It was the family dog. It was a small dog, white and fluffy, and Myungjun loved it dearly. So when he woke up one day and his dog wouldn't move, Myungjun cried, his sobs loud enough to bring his parents into his bedroom.

They tried to take the dog away, explaining something about _cancer_ and _sickness_ , but Myungjun kept a tight hold of the lifeless body, willing his dog to wake up somehow and lick his face.

Which was exactly what had happened.

He still remembers the shock etched onto his parents' faces as his dog suddenly jolted up as if it had just been awoken from a slumber. Myungjun exclaimed the dog's name jubilantly, laughing as it jumped at him and offered him kisses.

His father took the dog from him then, jerking it away harshly from Myungjun's arms, and Myungjun never did figure out what happened to the dog, but in the words of his father, “Things that are dead should _stay_ dead.”

His mother was nicer to him about the entire situation, though she made certain that he should _never_ tell _anyone_ of his powers.

And that was how Myungjun learned that he was a necromancer.

Magic wasn't unheard of. It was _uncommon_ , definitely, but there were those with magical skills. They were looked down upon, watched closely by the government, cast out by the rest of society. Therefore, his mother told him, he must _never_ use his magic.

But at home, he did anyway. He squished bugs as practice, working hard until he was able to bring each and every one of them back to life. If his mother ever asked why there were so many ants in the house, Myungjun never told her anything.

He wanted to try bringing other things back to life. He worked on his mother's garden, taking over the watering duty in order to starve her poor flowers, and then he would plant life back into the dead plants once again. They usually ended up better than before.

He once found a dead bird, and memories of his first dog flooded back into his mind. The bird flew off shortly after Myungjun rested his hands on its feathery chest, and he watched in excitement.

His powers could be used to bring so much _good_ in the world, but in the schoolyard, he only ever heard about how evil magic users were.

Was he evil? He asked his mom once, and she had cried and hugged him, but she never answered him.

When he was twelve, he brought a dead cat back to life in front of a few of his classmates, mostly to impress the girl that was with them. They screamed and left, and he explained to his mother that the teachers at his school set him apart from everyone else, that he was bullied and ostracized, and that he wanted to leave and start over.

They did, and while Myungjun swore to his parents that he would never use his powers again, he found he couldn't help it. He was more observant about who was nearby, more attentive to his surroundings, but if he came across a dead flower, or some poor, dead creature, he couldn't help but bring them back to life. Nothing brought him greater joy than to see life return.

It was only natural, then, that he started up a business. It was a bakery. It was a cute bakery, with tons of bright flowers adorning tabletops and counters, and all of his customers wondered the same thing: “How do your flowers never die?”

Myungjun would laugh and spew some lie about the soil, and the one and only other employee, Minhyuk, would roll his eyes from his spot at the oven.

However, for those who paid certain people for information on certain magic users, Myungjun's bakery would become something different. The back rooms were where Myungjun did what he _truly_ longed to do; bring life back into things that had been previously dead. It was his greatest joy to see the happiness light up in the faces of children, adults, the elderly, when he would make their dead pets rise again, or when he would allow small pots of plants to get one more go at life.

It paid nicely, too. He certainly wouldn't be able to make a living from the measly wages his bakery earned, but he and Minhyuk would go home at the end of each day with much more money than they were actually earning from their baked goods.

It wasn't uncommon to see someone running into the bakery with a box in hand (usually with the dead animal or plant – Myungjun once had a box with human bones, and he was asked what he could do, and he kindly sent the person on their way home), and when they gave Myungjun _that look_ , he knew his powers were about to be used.

Except one guy that ran in on one particular day gave _that look_ to Minhyuk.

The shop was empty, and Minhyuk raised an eyebrow in confusion. When the man shoved his box at Minhyuk, the baker understood. “Dude, I can't do a _thing_ with magic. It's him.” He pointed over at Myungjun, who looked up from the spreadsheet he was working on.

“Need something?” Myungjun asked.

“Oh. Yes. Um...” The man seemed flustered, and he shoved the box at Myungjun.

“Something dead, then?” Myungjun sighed and stood up from his seat. “Let me see-”

“Don't open it in here!” Minhyuk exclaimed angrily. “If it's like that frog that had been dead for three days out in the sun, I _swear_ -”

Myungjun cut him off with a groan. “Minhyuk, I'd smell it if it was a dead creature. I bet it's just a plant. It's just a plant, right?” He looked at the man, who nodded his head. “You can talk. Say _yes_ or _no_ or something. It'll be awkward, otherwise, since it takes me a minute or two to bring plants back to life.” He gestured for the man to follow him into the back room, giving Minhyuk explicit instructions to, “not eat my batch of cookies like you did yesterday, you twit.”

Once the man was seated, Myungjun pulled out the potted plant. “Wow,” he mumbled. “It's really dead. How long as it been like this?”

“A few days.”

Myungjun gave a low whistle. “Didn't you water it?”

“I did.”

“You watered it? It's _parched_. I mean, if I poke it, it's going to just dissolve into little pieces.” Myungjun sighed and hovered a hand over it, feeling that familiar warmth spread to his fingertips. “I never understand why people get plants if they can't bother to learn how to care for them.”

The man furrowed his eyebrows. “I know how to care for cowslip.”

“Is that what this is? Because it looks like death.”

“I've cared for it just fine. I just don't have a green thumb.”

“You don't need a _green thumb_ to be able to keep _cowslip_ alive.”

It was silent for a few seconds before the man asked, “Do you even know what cowslip is?”

“Not this, that's for sure,” Myungjun muttered under his breath. It was taking a while to bring any sort of color and life back into the plant, so he glanced up. “We'll have two minutes, probably. What's your name, and why do you have a potted cowslip plant?”

The man sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you always so insulting to your customers?”

Myungjun smiled brightly. The man was cute when he was pouting, his lips curved downward and his shoulders slouched. Of course, he'd probably be even cuter if he was happy, and Myungjun wondered if bringing his cowslip back to life would cause him to grin. He sure hoped so. “Only to the real attractive ones.”

Once more, there was silence. And, once more, it only lasted for a few seconds. “Did you just call me attractive?”

“You can hear very well. Congratulations. I'm happy you pay attention to me better than you do this plant.”

“Will you shut up about the plant?”

“I'm the one using my powers to bring it back to life, so no, I won't shut up about this poor, defenseless, dead plant.” He pursed his lips then said, “Anyway, name?”

The man hesitated. “Jinwoo,” he mumbled. “Park Jinwoo.”

“Lovely name. I'm sure you know who I am.” Myungjun jutted out his chest to allow Jinwoo to read his nametag. “See? It says _Kim Myungjun_. My mom named me that, not my dad. My mom was the one who told me I was a necromancer. She told me if I told anyone, I was dead meat.”

Jinwoo blinked. “Well, you must have told a lot of people, since I heard about it, but if she kills you, you can just bring yourself back to life.”

“Necromancers aren't immortal, you moron.” Myungjun caught sight of yellow petals popping out of the flower, and he smiled happily at the cowslip. “You know what? I'm really confused as to why you have _cowslip_ in a pot. It's a field flower, isn't it? It just grows outside. No one really keeps them in pots, I don't think.”

“The man I spoke to about you said that you didn't require reasoning from your customers.”

Myungjun looked over at Jinwoo and shrugged his shoulders. “Guess not. Just money. Which, if you have, please come and put in my back pocket.”

Jinwoo made a face. “Why your back pocket? Can I just set it on the table and _you_ put it in your back pocket?”

“I'm not going to grope my own butt. I'd rather you do it.” He giggled lightly at Jinwoo's blush, then gestured with his head to the table. “Just set it down, I'm messing with you, Jinwoo. Gosh, you're so jumpy today. Guess you've never seen someone work this sort of magic before, have you?”

Jinwoo didn't respond to that. He simply set a wad of bills on the nearby table and moved to stand closer to his plant. “Is it almost done?”

“Almost – yeah, I think it's done. Anymore and it might burst.” Myungjun exhaled deeply as he moved his hands away, and he caught Jinwoo's concerned stare. “What?”

“You should keep a passion flower around,” was what Jinwoo responded with, taking his pot away from Myungjun and cradling it close to him. “If you do these spells often, it will wear you down, and passion flowers help with fatigue.”

Myungjun wasn't certain how to respond. Truthfully, he _knew_ passion flowers were helpful, having already been told such by various other magic users – which, if he was connecting two-and-two together correctly, would bring about the assumption that _Jinwoo_ was a magic user.

“Can... _you_ do spells?” Myungjun asked quietly.

Jinwoo must have realized then that he spilled more of his secrets than he meant to. His eyes grew wide and he stumbled backwards. “Just remembered, I have somewhere to be!” he announced. “Thanks for this, Myungjun, I owe you one!”

“You've paid-” Myungjun wasn't able to say anything else before Jinwoo hurried out of the room, letting the door slam behind him. Myungjun stood, frozen in shock, as his brain worked to figure out what exactly Jinwoo's magical ability was.

By the time Minhyuk popped his head in to check on him, Myungjun had a pretty good grasp on the situation, and he had to sit down.

“Hyung?” Minhyuk asked. “Hyung, is everything okay?”

The potted cowslip. The knowledge of Myungjun's power usage. The information about passion flower. The panic at his magic being figured out. It all made _sense_ , but Myungjun hated the answer.

“I think,” he mumbled, and Minhyuk had to lean in to hear, “I think I just helped out a witch.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i need to get some sort of life and stop writing so much, but i enjoy coming home from work and word vomiting all over the place, and if you guys enjoy reading it, that's good enough for this chickaboo.
> 
> send me dollar bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) because i just bought three signed astro albums i have issues.
> 
> (edited, i forgot to mention i found the prompt on fyotpprompts over on tumblr: _Person A is a cheerful necromancer who’s tired of stereotypes. They own a shop that specializes in restoring peoples’ dead plants and pets to life. Person B is a healer with the opposite of a green thumb and their plants are always dying on them. Needless to say, they’re a frequent customer._ adding my own little twist but here we are, i dont like coming up with my own prompts still lol)


	2. mint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myungjun grew fearful of witches. He could raise things from the dead; witches could snap their fingers and destroy all that he had brought life into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _minty fresh_

Myungjun was eight years old when he learned that witches were evil.

He had always been told that _all_ magical beings were evil, but witches were the ones no one wanted around. Myungjun could get away with being a necromancer living in society. It wasn't a great idea to broadcast his magic, nor was it a great idea to actually go about raising things from the dead in front of the general public, but necromancers, supposedly, weren't as bad as witches.

His favorite Saturday morning cartoon at the age of eight usually dealt with a group of heroes, schoolchildren proclaiming to be about his age, who would ward off evildoers. They were normal, non-magic users, and Myungjun envied them. He liked to pretend he _was_ one of them, and that he, too, could ward off all of the other evil magic users in the world.

Even healers weren't immune to their scrutiny, it seemed. (Myungjun remembered the episode with the evil healer – she healed other villains back to health, naturally making her evil enough to destroy.)

But the witches were by far the most _evil_ villains on the show. The witches were the ones that normal heroes told the audience they needed to watch out for. Witches had a variety of magical skills, and nobody really, truly knew the actual extent of a witch's powers. Apparently, witches were able to possess every sort of magic; they could teleport, they could read minds, they could heal, they could destroy, and all with simple verbal spells they could utter out.

So the witches who appeared as a villain were ugly, ridiculed, fought against harder than they would fight against any other magic user. The show would always leave important messages for the audience: _never_ engage with a witch. If kids who watched the show _were_ to see a witch preforming spells, they were told to tell a parent, who could then contact the law enforcement to dispose of the witch in some shape or form.

Myungjun grew fearful of witches. He could raise things from the dead; witches could snap their fingers and destroy all that he had brought life into.

(In the end, Myungjun stopped watching the show after their necromancer episode. He remembered his mother crying when she watched the rerun episode later that day. Myungjun had sat on the floor, staring at the television with wide eyes, as the necromancer raised an army up from the dead. The ones the necromancer had brought back to life had sunken cheeks and eyes, graying skin that sagged from their bones, horrid voices, and Myungjun didn't want to watch anymore, but he did anyway. The dead army turned on the necromancer, after having joined sides with the normal heroes, and the necromancer died. Myungjun slept with his parents after that for a full year, and he would usually wake up in his mother's arms, tightly embraced, as if she wished to protect him from his own powers.)

He had asked his father once about witches. His little legs couldn't quite reach the floor from where he sat at the kitchen table, and his father was rolling together kimbap for his school lunches. “Dad? Are witches really bad?”

“I'm not sure,” his father responded, quiet and gruff and not quite looking at Myungjun. “But I don't think you have to worry about witches. There aren't that many around.”

“Are there a lot of necro- necro-”

“Necromancers?”

“Yeah! What I am! Are there a lot of _them_ around?”

His father had passed over one of the smaller pieces of kimbap, and Myungjun greedily took it. “I haven't heard of a lot of them being around. And, besides, they're not bad at all.”

He smiled fondly as Myungjun stuffed the food in his mouth.

All of this remained in Myungjun's memory into his adult years, and he reminisced as such to Minhyuk when they had gone home for the evening.

“Out of _everyone_ I could have been helping, I helped a witch,” he complained, leaning up against a counter as Minhyuk prepared their dinner. “I mean, what about a shape-shifter? When will I get to help a _shape-shifter_? Witches are supposed to be the rarest of all magic users, and yet a _witch_ came to our bakery?” He scoffed. “This is ridiculous. I don't understand why I'd have to help a _witch_. Why can't he help himself? Witches are supposed to just say spells and _boom_ , they can bring anything to life they need to.”

Minhyuk rolled his eyes, a skill he was quite good at now. “I think it's more impressive that he didn't kill you. I know how obnoxious you are with your customers – he should have uttered a spell to just squash you.”

Myungjun swiped at Minhyuk, who dodged it with a gleeful cackle.

“Anyway,” Minhyuk continued once he was certain Myungjun wouldn't try to kill him anymore. “No one knows anything about witches, so we don't even know for certain what this guy's capable of. He might not even be a witch.”

Which was true. And, in any case, Myungjun was positive he wouldn't have to deal with Park Jinwoo anymore – except he was there the very next day, holding yet another box.

Minhyuk quickly backed away when he saw Jinwoo, and even Myungjun was apprehensive.

“Seriously? Again?” the necromancer asked. There were two customers in the shop, some couple who were sitting way too close and giving each other way too many kisses, and while Myungjun really didn't want to enter into his closed-off back room with a witch, he figured that it was a better fate than watching some teenagers get into a steamy make-out session.

So when Jinwoo nodded his head frantically, Myungjun sighed and gestured at the back door. “Minhyuk?” He leaned in close and whispered, “If I make owl noises, that's a sign for help.”

“Or maybe it's a sign he turned you into an owl,” Minhyuk whispered back.

Myungjun decided that he was on his own in dealing with a witch.

As they settled down and Jinwoo pulled out his newest dead plant, Myungjun had to blurt out, “So you're a witch?”

The plant dropped and nearly hit the floor, except Myungjun lunged forward at the last second to catch it. “Oh my _god_ , don't do that!” he exclaimed. “I can bring it back to life, but it's easier if it's already in pot that isn't broken.”

“Sorry,” Jinwoo mumbled, and he crossed his arms over his chest, watching Myungjun hover his hands over the dying flower. “How...how did you know?”

“Most magic users recognize the fact that I'm usually more feared than they are. I mean, a guy who can freeze water with his eyes isn't going to be used as horror stories for children, but the guy who can bring an army back up from the dead _totally_ will be used as nightmare fuel.” Myungjun gave Jinwoo a half-smirk and shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, I guess if you gave me enough time, I could bring an army back to life, but it takes all of my energy just to work on dead flowers and birds, so I doubt I'd get anywhere.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, since I'm usually the big, bad guy compared to the rest, everyone else is fine with telling me their magic powers. _You_ were not, which means you're something worse than a necromancer, and the only thing I can think of is a witch.”

He figured his logic was sound, but at this point, Jinwoo had already confirmed of his magical status; Myungjun really was helping out a witch.

“Please don't tell,” Jinwoo responded, and Myungjun had never seen anyone look so desperate before. “I don't need _anyone_ knowing, please, Myungjun.”

Myungjun raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to use your magical powers to turn me into, like, a toad or something if I tell?”

Jinwoo groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “A toad? Really? That takes so much preparation and time, I'm not turning you into a toad.”

“What takes little preparation and time, then? What _will_ you do if I tell?”

“I don't know. I might punch you.”

Myungjun snorted, and he actually had to draw away from the plant he was healing in an attempt to stop laughing. “What? _Punch_ me? That's the least witchy thing you can do, Jinwoo!”

“I can't just snap my fingers and make you a toad. Look-” And Jinwoo moved his hands up. That certainly put a stop to Myungjun's laughter.

“Don't!” he exclaimed, but Jinwoo snapped anyway. Myungjun quickly squeezed his eyes shut and shielded himself with his arms, but when nothing evil came his way, he peeked through the sleeves of his shirt.

Jinwoo looked unimpressed with Myungjun's fear. “See?” he mumbled. “That's why I have the plants. I can make brews, which allow me to make spells, and I _can_ do a few smaller things if I utter the right incantation.”

“Show me.”

“What?”

Clearly Jinwoo had never been asked such a thing before, if his shocked expression was anything to go by, but Myungjun pushed the dead plant aside and stared at Jinwoo with intensity. “I want to see you do something that witches do. I've never seen a witch before, and I've only heard how evil they are and they can, like, blow up the world or something with their powers. Do an _actual_ witch spell.”

It took Jinwoo a few seconds to process everything, and he finally asked, “You seriously want me to do a spell?”

“It's not like I'm a stranger to magic, Jinwoo.”

The blond boy sighed. “Fine. I can...here, I'll lift that pot.” And he did so, effortlessly, casually, just pointing a hand and allowing the pot to suddenly float.

“I've seen that power before," Myungjun responded, shrugging his shoulders.

“I have other powers.”

“Yeah, I know, that's the whole concept of a _witch_ , Jinwoo. They can possess tons of other powers. What else can you do?” Myungjun felt like a kid again, excited with his own magical abilities. This time, however, he was intent on watching Jinwoo perform _two_ magical abilities – and the thought of Jinwoo having even more stored away was especially intriguing.

“Usually I need potions to do things,” Jinwoo mumbled, but he looked around and then snapped his fingers again. Myungjun didn't flinch this time. “I can do this-” And with a few words uttered under his breath, Jinwoo made another dead flower appear beside the one he previously brought in.

Myungjun clapped his hands as if he had just witnessed a circus event. He certainly did notice Jinwoo's pleased smile, and he stored that away in his already-stellar memory bank. “That's so cool that you can do different powers! I can't believe I actually get to meet a witch! I would ask for your autograph, but then everyone would know who you are.” He patted Jinwoo's knee, earning himself a light blush from the witch. “This will be our little secret.”

“Thank you, Myungjun.” Jinwoo cleared his throat and then gestured over to the plants. “If you don't mind, can you just go ahead and do both of those?”

“Only if you pay me.”

Jinwoo must have been rich (or teleporting money into his own pocket), because he pulled out a few wads of bills and set them on the table. Myungjun counted out how much he was earning, and once he was satisfied with the amount, he got back to work.

“So, what are _these_ plants?” he asked.

“Both of them are mint.”

“Also, both of them are dead. Why can't you just get a spell to bring your plants back to life?” Myungjun's hands were over the original mint plant again, and he concentrated on spreading life back into the wilted mess.

Jinwoo looked a little sheepish. “I, uh, can't preform that one, oddly enough. There's a few spells I just can't actually get right. Um...the spell I had to _fix_ one of the plants when it died actually killed off _all_ of the plants.”

Myungjun giggled. “You're lying. You didn't screw up _that_ badly, did you?”

When Jinwoo nodded in confirmation, still slightly embarrassed, Myungjun decided that Jinwoo was absolutely endearing. And, somehow, Myungjun trusted him completely. Maybe witches weren't all that bad, or maybe Jinwoo was just a good witch, but Myungjun _liked_ Jinwoo.

He hoped his mother would never figure out that he was beginning to harbor a crush on a witch.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: i still know nothing about witches and all this pagan stuff, what even is magic
> 
> send me dollar bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) so i can go buy a bunch of salsa for my two-man party tonight.


	3. groundsel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinwoo didn't catch him, and Myungjun ended up smacking his head into the counter top on his crumbled descent to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yup this will have more than six chapters, i have more characters to introduce and things i want to do.

When Myungjun was nine, he discovered that magic actually takes a lot out of energy out of people.

He had been slowly practicing his necromancy in secret for a few years at that point. No one else knew; his parents didn't even know he was doing it (though his mother probably suspected such a thing was going on, on account of her flowers growing to full bloom in less than a day). It wasn't until he decided to bring life back into a dead tree that he realized, however, how exhaustive it was to use his magic.

It had taken him quite some time to make any sort of progress with that tree, and he longed to sit and rest, but he learned that if he stopped using his magic before the object was back to life, it would wither away and he would have to start all over.

So he continued onward, pushing forth through his fatigue, and making the tree grow large and tall once again.

And then he had collapsed.

Fainting was an interesting experience for him, nothing like it had been in the movies. His eyesight had gotten splotchy before everything went dark, and the sounds of the forest he was in seemed much farther away than they had before. Finally, when he felt his legs give out and his head hit the ground, he thought, _Oh, my, is this what fainting is truly like_?

He awoke quickly, breaking out in a sweat and unable to focus properly on doing something as simple as standing up. His legs just wouldn't move, and so he lay there for hours, drifting off for a nap every so often, as he found that he couldn't even keep his eyes open.

It was a terrible experience, and when he finally arrived home that evening to a worried mother, he made the decision that he would _never_ use his powers to bring back anything so extensive again.

Which was why, he had always explained to Minhyuk, bringing humans back to life was out of the question.

“Too big,” Myungjun said, miming how big humans were.

“Not you, though. You're short enough to make it work.”

Minhyuk dodged the dirty laundry Myungjun threw at him.

“And too complex,” Myungjun continued when he had finished stuffing his clothes into the washing machine. “I think humans are more complex than flowers and cats and things like that, so I think it would take a lot more energy to bring back a dead human. Also-” He smiled widely. “Humans are almost _always_ registered by the government, and if they had been proclaimed to be dead and were suddenly alive again, the government would be on my ass in a matter of seconds.”

So when people brought in death certificates or bottles of ashes, Myungjun would shoo them away and state that his powers actually didn't work on humans.

They did, probably – other necromancers had gotten in trouble for bringing humans back from the dead. Myungjun refused to deal with that, though. He focused on animals instead.

Animals, being more complex than flowers, also took much of Myungjun's energy. Fortunately for him, he would typically bring only a few animals back to life each day; five was the maximum, and it was spread out over the course of eight hours. Myungjun didn't know if he could take much more than that. But when a child came in carrying a box and Myungjun saw the litter of eight dead puppies, he certainly couldn't turn the kid away.

So he spent a long while bringing each and every one of the puppies back to life. The kid couldn't pay much, but seeing him grin and wipe the tears off of his cheeks was definitely enough of a payment for Myungjun.

He just couldn't stand up properly afterwards. His vision was blurry.

“I'm fine,” he assured Minhyuk, and he went out to man his bakery.

It didn't take him very long to start seeing black spots appear, and for the sounds of the oven timer dinging to start disappearing into the background.

And in the moment when he realized he was about to faint for the fourth time in his life, he heard a voice, sounding very far away, ask him, “Myungjun, are you alright?”

It wasn't Minhyuk, but it _was_ a voice Myungjun recognized.

“Jinwoo. Nice to see you.” He couldn't see a thing, and his words were slurred, anyway. “Do me a favor and catch me, will you? I think I'd like to fall into your body.”

Jinwoo didn't catch him, and Myungjun ended up smacking his head into the counter top on his crumbled descent to the floor.

At least Jinwoo was apologetic about it. He helped Minhyuk half-carry, half-drag Myungjun into the back room, and when Myungjun sleepily gave orders for Minhyuk to go man the bakery once again, it was just Jinwoo there to care for him.

Myungjun wasn't sure how much he trusted Jinwoo, considering the guy _did_ let him fall.

“Are you alright, Myungjun?”

Jinwoo's voice was pleasant and close by again, and Myungjun smiled lightly. His head was resting on the table and his eyes were closed. Sleep longed to take over.

“Mmhm. Fine. I think my head's going to explode, though. How bad is the bruise?”

“Look up.”

“I can't move, Jinwoo. Lift my head for me.”

Jinwoo did _that_ much, at least, and Myungjun's eyes fluttered open at the last second to see Jinwoo wince upon laying eyes on the bruise that covered Myungjun's forehead.

“Not bad,” Jinwoo responded. “It's not bad.”

“Liar.”

Jinwoo gently lay Myungjun's head back on the table again, and he took a seat across from the necromancer. “This is your fault, in any case. You did too much magic at once, didn't you?”

“How did you know?” Myungjun asked, and before Jinwoo could answer, he smacked his lips together. “No, never mind, I totally know how you know. I bet you've done this exact same thing before, haven't you? Most magic users I know have.”

“Witches have more stamina than most magic users,” Jinwoo responded, and he sighed loudly. “Am I stuck in here until you gain your energy back?”

“Probably. You have a plant with you?” He peeked over to see the plant nearby. He wondered if part of the reason Jinwoo let him fall was to ensure the _plant_ didn't fall. Myungjun didn't know if he should be angry about that. “So, yeah, if you want your plant to live, you'll stay here with me.” He hesitated for a few seconds before closing his eyes and whispering, “ _Witch_ might be an hour or two.”

When Jinwoo didn't make a sound, Myungjun glanced over.

He had never seen anyone look so exasperated before.

“Anyway,” Myungjun cleared his throat and rested his head again. “What dead plant do you have for me to heal today, Park Jinwoo?”

“It's a weed.”

“Awesome. I get to heal up for a weed. Thanks, Park Jinwoo.”

“It's groundsel, if that makes it better.”

“I'm a baker and a necromancer. I don't know a thing about weeds.”

Jinwoo's hands were suddenly on his cheeks, cupping them slightly. Myungjun didn't open his eyes, but he found himself leaning into the warm touch, a soft hum of appreciation coming from his lips.

“You'll make yourself sick if you keep using your powers like this,” Jinwoo mumbled.

“I can't say no to dead puppies, Park Jinwoo.”

One of Jinwoo's hands ran through Myungjun's hair. He hoped Jinwoo wouldn't find him too disgusting. He had been sweating a lot, and his brown hair was clumpy and gross. He felt Jinwoo's fingers comb his wet bangs, however, and he _longed_ to be fully awake for this, to watch Jinwoo's expression as the soft touches continued.

“I know you don't trust witches, but would you mind if I made you some sort of potion to energize you?”

“I trust _you_.”

The words came before he could stop them. Once they were out of his mouth, he didn't even care to try taking them back, too tired to fully comprehend the weight of his words. Jinwoo tensed for a few seconds before relaxing, and Myungjun could _hear_ the smile on his face when he exclaimed, “Really?”

“Not to catch me when I'm falling, but to care for me? Sure. I trust you.”

Jinwoo removed his hands and Myungjun whined slightly when the warmth left. Jinwoo hushed him and then began to utter a few spells.

“What will you be making for me?” Myungjun asked, holding back a yawn.

“Just a simple potion to take away fatigue.”

“And are your plants actually alive for it?”

“All but the groundsel.”

Myungjun blinked his eyes open. Jinwoo had even summoned a small, black cauldron and some sort of battery-powered stovetop. It wasn't what Myungjun had expected a witch to work with, but it made it all the more precious to him, seeing Jinwoo standing over such a tiny cauldron.

“Do...do you _need_ the groundsel for this? Because I can't-”

Jinwoo was shaking his head, and his hands went back to petting at Myungjun's hair. “I can make do without. It won't be a perfect potion, but I'll hex it slightly in order to make it stronger.”

Myungjun had heard of a witch's hex before. According to everything he had seen about it, hexes were the most dangerous thing a witch could do. If a witch hexed something or someone, self-defense was a must (and the government encouraged this self-defense to involve somehow killing the witch).

“Is it going to turn me into a toad?” Myungjun whispered.

“Oh my god.” Jinwoo rolled his eyes and began mixing together the ingredients he had gathered. “It won't turn you into anything. It'll just make you feel better.”

“I feel great. I'd feel even better if you put those nice hands of yours around my face again.” Myungjun would have pointed at his cheeks, a gesture of where Jinwoo could put those hands, but he couldn't move a muscle, so he just sighed and closed his eyes instead. “You still have permission to put money in my back pocket and grope my butt while you're at it. I think I have a nice butt. You might enjoy it. Your hands are so nice, Park Jinwoo.”

“Do I need to make a potion for stupidity, as well?”

“No.”

“Then shut up and let me do this.”

Myungjun did. Myungjun might have drifted off once or twice as Jinwoo stirred at the potion, but he was certainly awake the moment he felt Jinwoo pushing him into a sitting up position.

“I knew there was a reason I loved your hands all over me, Park Jinwoo,” Myungjun mumbled when Jinwoo's hand rested flat on Myungjun's chest in order to stop him from falling over.

“I should _really_ be making a potion that shuts you up whenever I come by.”

“I think you like hearing me talk.”

Jinwoo didn't deny it. Jinwoo simply stuffed a small flask under Myungjun's lips, urging the necromancer to open them ever so slightly. “Here. Drink, please. Might taste weird, but it will help.”

Myungjun felt rather nervous to be drinking a witch's hexed potion, but when he blinked his eyes open, Jinwoo was smiling at him in encouragement.

“It's alright,” Jinwoo said. “I promise, I haven't done a thing other than ensure this potion will wake you up. Please drink it, Myungjun.”

Myungjun couldn't deny that handsome face _anything_ , so he drank the potion. He drank it all completely, grimacing at the strange, bitter taste. Jinwoo laughed at his expression, then suddenly ruffled Myungjun's hair. “It takes a minute or two to work, but you should be as good as new until bedtime.”

“What happens at bedtime? Can you come home with me? That'd be nice to take you home with me.”

“If you act weird like this one more time, I really _will_ turn you into a toad.”

Myungjun giggled, but in the midst of their teasing, Jinwoo had taken his hand away from Myungjun's chest. Myungjun, without any support now, began to fall forward. Jinwoo was quick, fortunately for Myungjun, and Jinwoo actually caught him this time, allowing Myungjun's forehead to rest in the crook of his neck. His warm hands rubbed down Myungjun's back, and he hummed a light tune as he held onto the necromancer.

The potion did go into effect very quickly, just as Jinwoo had stated, but Myungjun pretended like it had yet to do anything. He wanted to savor this position for as long as possible.

Besides that, Jinwoo didn't seem like he was in a rush to move away, either, and Myungjun found himself hiding his smile in Jinwoo's shoulder.

He liked witches.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _witch_ puns should i use more of lol.
> 
> while this is certainly going to be cutsie patootsie fluff, there will be some angst in a few chapters. not much, i promise, nothing big.
> 
> send me dollar bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) so i can buy dinner, im hungry.


	4. jasmine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myungjun decided he would try to control his thoughts a little bit better, just in case Jinwoo came in one day with mind-reading abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize in advance.

When Myungjun was eleven, he met a mind reader.

He was a quiet kid, three years younger and three times smarter, and he lived down the street. The kid's mother always boasted to Myungjun's mother about how her son was in advanced courses, how her son would become a doctor, how her son was going to be rich and famous.

Usually, Myungjun's mother would fume and rant inside of their house after speaking to the kid's mother, stuff about how Myungjun was the _true_ star of the neighborhood, and just because Myungjun was a little different, it didn't mean that other kids were instantly better than he was.

(But it did, actually, Myungjun realized when he noticed how opposite they were in terms of friend count; that is, the kid had probably ten best friends, and Myungjun had a goldfish.)

They would walk to school together sometimes, and even if they hardly ever spoke, Myungjun enjoyed his company. He didn't _want_ to like the kid, but it wasn't often that Myungjun met someone who didn't seem frightful of him.

And then, one day, the kid revealed that he knew more than he let on about Myungjun.

“Are you a necromancer?” he asked. His gaze was inquisitive, seemingly interested in Myungjun's answer, quite unlike the other kids who huddled away with wide eyes if anyone so much as brought it up.

Myungjun wasn't sure how to respond. “Who told you that?”

“I know you are one.”

Myungjun blinked, then looked down at his feet. His mother explained that he should never respond if people asked who he was. He wished he could leave and go home and not concern himself with this weird kid anymore.

“You don't need to call me weird.”

Myungjun spun his head back around to look at the kid. He hadn't said that out loud, had he? His mouth hadn't moved, in any case.

The kid smiled, and then pointed at Myungjun's head. “It's all up in there.”

The kid was a mind reader, and had kept it a secret from the entire world up until that point. He had never met another magic user, he told Myungjun, and he was excited to finally know that he wasn't alone in the world. Myungjun was impressed with his determination to not let anyone else in on the secret.

“Even your mom doesn't know?” Myungjun asked.

The kid shrugged his shoulders. “She hates magic users,” he responded with a mumble.

Myungjun made a promise not to tell a soul, not even his own mother, and he soon grew closer with the weird kid. After a year or two, the kid and his mother packed up to leave; the kid mentioned something about a more _advanced_ school that his mother wanted to send him to, even if he didn't want to leave. He cried when he gave Myungjun a quick hug before running off to the moving van.

Myungjun thought about the kid every so often, wondering if his mother knew just yet, or if he had gone on to become a doctor like they were always told he would be. And when Jinwoo came in the next day, Myungjun wondered if Jinwoo had the ability of a mind-reader.

“Read my mind!” was the first thing Myungjun announced once they were in the backroom.

Obviously, Jinwoo was a little confused. “Do what?”

“ _Read_ my _mind_ ,” Myungjun repeated, a little slower this time, making sure to emphasize his words so Jinwoo would understand. “I met a mind reader when I was a kid, and since witches have all different sorts of abilities, I wanted to see if that was one of them.”

“That's something I have to make a potion for,” Jinwoo responded. “And the ingredients are a little more rare. Here-” He set down his new potted plant and pointed at it. “Jasmine.”

“Ooh, Jasmine. That's a normal flower, finally. Something even I know. It's for a perfume, isn't it?” Myungjun winked. “Got a pretty lady on your mind, Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo took a seat and pursed his lips. “Of course not.”

“Well, if it's for me, I don't wear perfume. Cologne, on the other hand-” He grinned and held up his left hand. “I wear cologne _on the other hand_.”

“Myungjun, just get to work.”

“Yes, sir.”

Myungjun hovered his hands over the withered plant, concentrating on spreading his powers into his fingertips. Once things were set in motion, he glanced back over at Jinwoo. “So, you can't read minds unless you make a potion?”

Jinwoo nodded his head. “And I've only made the potion once. The effects last for a few hours, but it's not very pleasant to continuously be able to read minds all of the time. You see a lot of stuff you'd, uh, rather not see.”

Myungjun decided he would try to control his thoughts a little bit better, just in case Jinwoo came in one day with mind-reading abilities.

“I thought witches honestly just snapped and made it so. I don't get the whole _potion brewing_ thing. Can't normal people just do that?”

“It's the spells you chant that make the potions magical,” Jinwoo responded, leaning back in his chair and watching Myungjun. “So, sure, you can totally make the potion, but unless you chant the spell, nothing's actually going to happen.”

That made enough sense for Myungjun to accept it, and they fell into a quiet lull before Myungjun decided to break the silence. “But, uh, I don't think I ever got a chance to properly thank you for the potion you gave me the other day.” Jinwoo looked up at him with wide eyes and Myungjun prayed his face wasn't housing a blush at the moment. “I mean, it's happened before, but I'm usually out for the entire day and it's not very comfortable at all. So...thank you for that potion. It helped.”

“Oh.” Jinwoo had a soft smile on his face. “It's no problem at all. I just remember the first time _I_ got too fatigued from using my powers.”

“I thought you said witches had more stamina than other magic users.”

“Just because we have more of it doesn't mean we have an unlimited amount.” Jinwoo sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I was young and levitating a lot of objects, and I just became exhausted. Fainted right on the kitchen floor.”

“God, your mom must have been scared to death!”

Jinwoo shook his head. “No, um...I didn't live with my parents. My mom – she didn't like having a witch for a son. I lived with my aunt. She also didn't like having a witch for a son, so she didn't care very much. I woke up and she had pushed me underneath the table and was cooking dinner.”

Myungjun wanted to stop bringing the plant back to life in order to focus more of his attention on Jinwoo, but the jasmine was almost back to its normal self. He couldn't stop just yet, but he could frown and glance over at the soil in the flower pot.

“I wish you had come lived with me, Jinwoo. My mom would have loved you just as much as she loved me.”

“Thanks, but it's been a long time since then. I'm fine. She never hurt me physically, and I was fed and clothed. I understand why she was like that – I'm a witch.” Jinwoo laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Witches aren't accepted in society. Nothing wrong there. I get it.”

“I don't.”

“Well, you're a necromancer, and necromancers also aren't really accepted in society.”

“I don't get that, either. What do they think I'm going to do – raise an army up and fight against them? I mean, it takes me ages to bring these stupid, dead flowers back to life, so I don't know how they expect me to do anything _evil_ with my powers.” He finished his task and looked over the jasmine before handing it to Jinwoo. “I like making flowers bloom, and I like seeing life come back into the eyes of dead animals. Nothing makes me happier than making people happy.”

Jinwoo's expression was soft, serene, and when he took the plant away from Myungjun, their fingers touched ever so lightly. Jinwoo didn't jerk back. He seemed to let his hands linger there, and Myungjun wondered what it would be like to hold those hands.

“I think you're doing your job well, then. Oh-” Jinwoo reached into his wallet, hoisting the flower pot into one hand, and pulled out his usual wad of bills. “Here. Payment.”

Myungjun held out a hand to accept it, but after a moment of hesitation, Jinwoo smirked and suddenly leaned forward. His hand wrapped around Myungjun's waist and he calmly stuffed the money into Myungjun's back pocket.

His hand lingered.

Myungjun felt like he was frozen in shock. While he had certainly teased, he never expected Jinwoo to _act_ upon his teasing, and he had no idea what to even do anymore (except he realized he was right – he liked Jinwoo's hands very, very much).

And then-

_He was groping Myungjun's ass_.

Myungjun opened his mouth, mostly in shock, but also to ask a quick, _what are you doing_? Before he could say a word, however, the backroom door opened and Minhyuk poked his head in.

“Myungjun,” Minhyuk announced. “You have an-”

He didn't looked surprised at the position of the two boys, just disappointed. “A client, Myungjun.”

Jinwoo darted back quickly, almost dropping his flower pot, and Myungjun felt his entire face turn red at being caught in such a compromising situation. “Oh! Okay! Just, uh, finishing up!” He cleared his throat and shot Jinwoo a shaky smile. “S-So I guess you'll be back?”

Jinwoo wasn't even going to speak, it seemed. He just nodded his head frantically before pushing past Minhyuk and scurrying off. Myungjun had to take a few extra seconds to compose himself before greeting his next guest.

(Had it always been so hot in the backroom?)

The guest set a box down on the table, then looked over at the door where Jinwoo had run off to. “His thoughts were...rather dirty, if you wanted to know,” the guest mumbled without any provocation to do so, and Myungjun stared at him in confusion. “Ah, but-” The man turned and faced Myungjun again. When he smiled, his eyes turned up into crescents. “Yours are, too.”

“What are you, a mind reader?”

“Yup.” The man held out a hand. “And it's nice to see you again, Kim Myungjun, Necromancer-Who-Lived-Down-The-Street.”

Myungjun blinked owlishly, then clapped his hands together. “Dongmin! That doctor kid! Lee Dongmin! Seriously, it's you? Wow, you grew...tall! Handsome, even, which is a big change from that ugly, weird kid down the street from me."

Dongmin's smile tightened. “And you haven't grown a bit.”

“God, you're an eyesore.” Myungjun leaned over to peer into the box, grimacing when he saw it was a dead dog. “Is this your pet?”

“My boyfriend's pet, actually.”

“You have a boyfriend?”

Dongmin nodded his head proudly as Myungjun carefully gathered the lifeless creature out from the box. “And you probably will soon, too, from the looks of it.” He took a seat in the same chair Jinwoo had been using. “As a mind reader, you can trust me when I say that short, blond guy _really_ likes you, Myungjun.” Myungjun blushed and began to work his magic, which Dongmin must have seen as an opportunity to continue. “He also liked, uh, the position that you two were in before I came.”

“He likes my butt, is what you're trying to get at.”

“Yes.”

“I like _his_ butt, Dongmin.”

“Yes, I've gathered that much.”

“I'm going to find a way to grope _his_ butt, Dongmin.”

“You really don't have to say all of your thoughts out loud, please, especially at our first meeting in over ten years.”

Myungjun grinned, and the two fell into a familiar chat, discussing the position of their current lives; and Dongmin knew, what with his knowing smile, but Myungjun's mind lingered completely on Park Jinwoo for the entirety of their conversation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _the butt groping_ and mj will still bring it up again bc he loves jinjin's hands.
> 
> so im changing the rating on this to TEEN, not because of the butt-groping but just because i think the next two chapters are a LITTLE heavier and angstier than my norm, and just to make sure everyone understands this, it gets a TEEN rating. i promise it won't be that bad, i'm legit the most PG person in existence. but after these next two chapters, it'll be back to fluffy goodness.
> 
> send me dollar bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) so i can buy more bandaids bc my cat ripped up my hands this morning


	5. chamomile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myungjun learned that day why his mother cried often at nights, and why his father always looked so stressed and worried when he picked Myungjun up from school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little sadder than the others. oops? next chapter after this will also be sad, and then the next one as well, but it's just three sad chapters, and then BAM back to cutsie fluff.

When Myungjun was twelve, he was locked inside a janitorial closet at school.

He still remembered it vividly. Word had gotten out that Kim Myungjun, resident weirdo and possible psychopath, had brought a cat back from the dead (though when Myungjun was confronted about it, the story had stretched into Myungjun brutally _killing_ the cat, then bringing it back to life as a hell-cat and making it attack other schoolchildren). Kids were frightened that someone among them had been a magic user the entire time.

Three older boys had grabbed onto Myungjun, and after shoving him and pushing him a bit, they forced him into the small, cramped closet. Myungjun fell unceremoniously onto a dirty mop, and he had looked up just in time to see the door close on him.

He banged and pounded on that door, but it was close to the end of the day. Children were going home, and Myungjun's cries for help went unnoticed.

The only time the door opened was when a teacher had heard Myungjun's sobs as he was leaving. He peeked inside, and Myungjun jumped to his feet, quite ready to run home and pretend like nothing had ever happened - and then the teacher hurriedly closed the door again.

Myungjun had been frozen in shock. While he understood the teachers didn't particularly like him, he had never expected one of the teachers to keep him locked inside a custodian's closet, surrounded by darkness and various cleaning solutions.

Myungjun had hit the door weakly again, one hand wiping tears off of his cheeks. “Excuse me?” he had called out, and his voice was quiet, quivering with fear. He had no idea how many hours had passed, but after a while, he gave up.

His pillow that night was his jacket, folded and placed down atop of the dirty floor. He had no blanket and he shivered, trying to calm himself by humming various songs that his mother had sung to him as an even younger child.

Myungjun's parents had been worried sick, he learned when he was finally let out the following morning. They all had a meeting with the principal, and despite being twelve years old and beginning to enter in his rebellious teenage years, Myungjun had allowed himself to be embraced by his mother throughout the entire meeting, his head resting in her chest as he unsuccessfully tried to hide his sniffles from the school administration.

When he named the people who stuffed him into the closet in the first place, the principal simply jotted down a few notes, and when he mentioned the teacher who hadn't released him, the principal simply shrugged.

“You can't expect us to believe the words of a...well, you know,” the principal said to Myungjun's father, trying to look apologetic. “Especially considering the witnesses around at the time had a different story from Myungjun and told us that Myungjun had gone inside of the closet on his own free will and told them that he would come out on his own in a little while. He had wanted to skip the final class of the day, and he ended up falling asleep. That's all there is to it.”

Myungjun's father had his fists clenched where they rested on his knees. “He's _crying_ ,” his father snapped, gesturing over to Myungjun, who squeezed his eyes shut when the principal's gaze fell on him. “He was scared and his voice is hoarse from yelling for help. And you say he _locked himself inside_?”

“We don't understand...people like him,” the principal responded, and Myungjun's mother tightened the embrace she had around her son.

“He's a _boy_ ,” his father snapped.

“He's a necromancer,” the principal retorted.

(Myungjun learned that day why his mother cried often at nights, and why his father always looked so stressed and worried when he picked Myungjun up from school.)

He hardly ever recounted the memory to anyone, but when Dongmin decided to catch up with Myungjun at his apartment, Myungjun might have mentioned it.

“Seriously?” Minhyuk was the first one to respond. “You were _locked inside of a closet_?”

“It wasn't so bad,” Myungjun lied as he sipped at his beer. He pretended like he didn't see Dongmin's concerned gaze, like he didn't _know_ Dongmin had already read his mind and figured out all of the emotions that Myungjun had felt during the ordeal. “I mean, it's not as bad as what other magic users have gone through. What about you, Dongmin?” He tapped his own forehead. “I can't read your mind and figure out what crazy shit people have put _you_ through, so you'll just have to tell us.”

Dongmin blinked, then shrugged his shoulders. “Honestly, nothing that extreme. But it is a little easier to keep my talent hidden.”

Myungjun made a face, then turned to Minhyuk. “He had about a thousand friends, and he was only eight back then.”

Minhyuk didn't look impressed at Dongmin's friend count. “Yeah, I had a lot of friends when I was eight, too, hyung.”

“That's because you're just normal. Normal people always have friends.” Myungjun didn't want to admit he was envious; he didn't have to, because Dongmin nodded his way and shrugged his shoulders.

Minhyuk noticed it and pointed a finger over at Dongmin. “Don't you dare read my mind,” he warned. “I have to deal with you magical users all of the time, and my thoughts aren't supposed to be shared to you guys!”

“Alright, alright.” Dongmin smirked into his beer. “All I'm getting is some kid – he's a year younger? And he's tall, screams loudly-”

“Myungjun, tell him to knock it off!” Minhyuk whined, still pointing a finger in Dongmin's direction.

Myungjun finished off his beer and slammed the can down on the table. “I can't do anything about him, Minhyuk. He'll read my mind and figure out what I'm _going_ to do. Speaking of which-” Myungjun wiggled his eyebrows and opened his mouth, but Dongmin beat him to the chase.

“No, my boyfriend is not a magic user, and, no, I don't read his mind. Just yours, because you're weird and unpredictable.”

Myungjun closed his mouth again and huffed. “Does he _know_ you're a mind reader?”

Finally, something seemed to make Dongmin nervous about that, and the man shifted in his seat. “Um...yes, because I let a few things slip when I first started trying to court him.”

“ _Court_ him, kick this guy out of our house, Myungjun,” Minhyuk mumbled.

Myungjun smiled brightly and shot Dongmin a thumbs up. “I'm glad it worked out for you, though! Are you two living here now?”

“Yes, we moved back here for work-related purposes. I think we should have a double-date one day.” Dongmin returned Myungjun's smile. “You and that witch, and me and Binnie.”

He had to endure Myungjun gushing over the adorable nickname of _Binnie_ for the rest of the evening, but when Myungjun arrived at work the very next day to see Jinwoo already standing there in wait, he suddenly realized that he _really_ did want to go on a date with Jinwoo. He wasn't a fortune teller, and he couldn't read what the future would hold, but he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that spending the rest of his life with Jinwoo was all that he wanted for himself.

“It's a little early for _baked goods_ , isn't it, Jinwoo?” Myungjun asked, announcing his arrival.

Jinwoo jumped, nearly dropping the box he held. “Oh, god, you scared me!” he muttered.

“Sorry about that.” Myungjun responded and unlocked the doors to his bakery. “Seriously, though, why are you here so early? Can't it wait until this afternoon?”

Jinwoo shook his head. “Sometimes I have orders for, um, potions and stuff, and I _thought_ I had chamomile available, but, um, it's dead, too. That was one that I had gotten recently, so I don't know what happened. I had been watering it as the instructions told me to.”

“I think you suck at keeping things alive, Jinwoo.”

“It's a good thing you suck at keeping things dead.”

Myungjun giggled as he flipped on the lights, to the small bakery. “That's true. Here-”

He cleared a spot on his counter and gestured for Jinwoo to pass over the box. When Jinwoo did so, Myungjun peeked inside and let out a low whistle. “Not as bad as the others, but it's dead. Really dead. I don't get how you're so good at using your hands for _some_ stuff, but not for this.”

Jinwoo scrunched his nose up in thought. “I'm good at using my hands?”

“Yeah, you groped my ass yesterday. Best ass-groping I've had in a _long_ time, Jinwoo, I gave it a one hundred percent.”

He liked seeing the color drain from Jinwoo's face, and he grinned widely. “You have the decency to look sheepish, too, but don't worry, I liked it a lot. Now, then-”

Ignoring the fact that Jinwoo was probably going to have a mental breakdown right in front of him, Myungjun took the chamomile out from the box and spread his fingers out over it. The warmth coursed through him as he put his focus in bringing the plant back to life again.

“Aren't we supposed to do it in the back room?” Jinwoo asked, his voice down to a whisper.

“The groping? Sure.”

“No! The...necromancy.”

Myungjun laughed and shook his head. “We're technically still closed, and no one's going to find anything weird about us.”

“We're two grown men standing real close together over a dead plant that's slowly coming back to life.”

“See, it sounds weird when you put it _that_ way,” Myungjun responded. “Here, just shield me with that handsome body of yours so no one peeks in through the windows to watch.”

Jinwoo groaned, muttering something along the lines of, “You're the weirdest out of both of us,” but he did as Myungjun had requested.

There was another lull in the conversation, and Myungjun periodically glanced up from his work to look at Jinwoo. He nearly lost his focus twice, admiring the way Jinwoo's jawline looked when he turned his head, admiring the way Jinwoo's nervous eyes kept darting back to the windows, so filled with concern, admiring the way Jinwoo's tongue would peek out to lick at his lips when they got too dry.

While he definitely _was_ attracted to Jinwoo right then, he couldn't help but wonder what all Jinwoo had to go through. Myungjun thought his own life was difficult, but seeing Jinwoo's fear of being found out made him realize that a witch, certainly, wouldn't have the same comforts that _he_ had. There was a distinct lack of supportive family members, as Myungjun had already learned, and did Jinwoo even have any friends?

“What?” Jinwoo finally noticed Myungjun looking at him.

Myungjun was unashamed to have been caught. “Has life been difficult for you?” he asked quietly.

The question had taken Jinwoo by surprise, and he seemed to contemplate Myungjun's inquiry before responding. “It's hard for all magic users.”

“I assume it's harder for a witch.”

Jinwoo bit his lip.

Myungjun took his silence as a chance to continue. “I was telling some friends last night, but...when I was twelve, I was locked inside a janitorial closet at school.”

He relayed the story to Jinwoo, including all sorts of self-depreciating humor that he possibly could, including all sorts of smiles that he possibly could. “I'm over it now,” he ended with, and just as he finished the story, he finished the chamomile, as well. “I'm good now.”

“Are you, though?”

Myungjun thought back to the nonchalant conversation just the previous evening, to Dongmin's concerned gaze watching over him. He thought back to how dark and cold it was, all alone in that closet, and to the teacher who had opened the door and caught sight of him, and despite Myungjun crying out, “ _Please, help!_ ” had closed the door on a young child.

He mostly thought back, though, to the principal refuting his father with one simple statement.

_He's a necromancer_.

And then Myungjun broke.

“I-I-I don't _want_ to be a necromancer!” he sobbed out suddenly, and he hid his face in his hands. The tears that spilled from his eyes stained his fingers. “I want t-to be _Myungjun_!”

He hadn't realized that Jinwoo had taken him in an embrace until he felt the man's breath in his ear, a simple, “ _Shh_ ,” washing over him. It made Myungjun cry all the more, knowing that he was being comforted by Earth's most feared creature.

“I'm sorry,” he apologized shakily, hiccups escaping from his mouth. Jinwoo held him tightly, and those familiar hands of his rubbed up and down Myungjun's back. Myungjun felt terrible, however; Jinwoo had gone through worse, probably. Jinwoo deserved to be in this position. And yet, for some reason, he couldn't stop from crying loudly. “I'm so sorry!”

There was a sudden kiss placed on his forehead, bangs being pushed up in order to make way for Jinwoo's lips. It didn't stop Myungjun's tears, but it sent a rush of warmth down his body, replacing the slight fatigue that had been brought about from using his powers.

Another kiss, and then Jinwoo spoke.

“You _are_ Myungjun. You're Myungjun, the baker with the most beautiful laugh in the world. You're Myungjun, the guy who likes my hands and talks about his butt too much. You're Myungjun, the only person I've ever met who accepts a _witch_ without blinking an eye.”

He kissed Myungjun's temple, mouth lingering slightly as he sighed.

“You're Myungjun.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i failed you guys, i meant to make it pure fluffy goodness. i couldnt do it. oops. regardless, im glad that you all enjoyed the Butt Grabbing from last chapter. just use that as my legacy.
> 
> also, come send me dollar bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) to go sue the bird who pooped on my car.


	6. henbane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a necromancer was no good if he could only sit here and wait for Jinwoo to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much to say, enjoy the ride fellers.
> 
> oh but i think four more chapters are left after this!

When Myungjun was fourteen, he was punched in the face.

He didn't like blood very much. He never had, honestly. He thought he would become used to the sight of blood, after how many animals he ended up rescuing off of the streets, but he never did. It was a sign of pain and death, and those things made him feel queasy. He supposed he was more in tune with it than others – healing broken and mauled creatures he found gave him plenty of time to imagine just _how_ they got into that state, and he never liked where his imagination took him.

He had just finished bringing back a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest. He took it carefully in his hands, smiling brightly when it chirped at him. He had taken care of a few baby birds at that point, and he had already given it a name while hovering his hands over it.

“Little Ant,” he murmured, and he wiped some leftover ants off of it. “You're going to grow into a big baby bird, aren't you? I guess that would make you an adult bird, huh?”

The bird chirped. Myungjun giggled.

“I'll make sure you're safe, don't worry! You'll grow big and strong and I want you to make sure you take care of _your_ baby birds when you have them, okay Little Ant?”

He would have continued to coo and coddle the bird had he not heard a loud, angry _hey!_ behind him. When he turned and looked, he noticed several boys standing nearby. Two of them looked shocked, but the other two looked mean.

Myungjun offered them a small smile. “Can I help you?”

They were walking towards him, and Myungjun moved back instinctively. Before he had much more of a chance to react, one of the boys knocked the bird out of his hand and stepped on it.

Myungjun heard the chirp, the breaking of bones, and he felt that unwelcome weight on his heart, the imagination of what the bird must have gone through propelling through his mind.

His hands, still outstretched in a cupped position, shook.

“You filthy _witch_ ,” one of the boys snapped, and then Myungjun was punched.

Blood came from his nose, and he tentatively touched it. His fingers trembled when they withdrew and the crimson liquid covered the tips of them.

He was punched again, and once more, and he lost track after the fourth punch.

He had no idea how to defend himself. The boys laughed at him, insults pouring from their mouths as he was compared to every magical being there was; _witch_ , however, was one of the more repeated insults. _Witch_ was the worst insult.

By the time they left, Myungjun felt around and counted three different open wounds where blood was coming from. While he had encountered blood on animals before, while his hands had been stained red from his necromancy before, it was never his _own_ blood.

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't heal himself at all – so, instead, he turned to the baby bird, body crushed from the weight of the boot that had stepped down on it.

It took longer to bring back to life for the more extensive death it suffered, and by the time he heard that sweet, small chirp, he was in tears.

Myungjun cradled the baby bird and apologized for not keeping his original promise. He apologized for not keeping the bird safe and for allowing it to go through such a horrible ordeal on his watch.

When he arrived home, his mother didn't question the tears and the blood and the bird in his hands. She simply watched sadly as Myungjun dug up worms and grub from her garden, and when Myungjun lay in bed that night, the baby bird chirping on his bedside table in a nest of Myungjun's own making, he heard her crying to his father, “Why does he have to go through all of this?”

He had always wanted to apologize for making his mother worry, for using his powers in plain sight, for being born.

The next day, when his mother put ointment on his bruises and looked at him with such worry in her gaze, Myungjun realized how much older she seemed. Did she always have so many wrinkles? Did she always have stress lines on her forehead?

She kissed his cheek and whispered, “Don't let them put you down, Myungjun. You're perfect.” She had cleared her throat, then continued, “I'll feed and take care of Little Ant while you're at school. Pay attention in class!”

Little Ant grew up, and Myungjun named him Big Ant before releasing him.

Myungjun still hated blood, but realized it was probably better coming from him than it was some poor creature on the side of the road. At the very least, he hadn't gone through the pain _they_ had, and he would rather they have the chance to live happy, healthy lives.

He would take the punches if it meant no one else had to.

“Jinwoo hasn't come in today.” Minhyuk broke through Myungjun's silent reminiscing.

“Hm? Oh.” Myungjun nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Yeah.”

Truth be told, he didn't know if Jinwoo _would_ be coming in at all. The circumstances yesterday had left them both looking awkwardly at each other, when Myungjun had finally stopped his wailing, and after Jinwoo helped Myungjun dry his tears and clean his face, the witch had stammered out an apology for kissing him without permission and had then quickly taken off.

“I guess you brought all of his plants back to life?”

“Guess so.”

“I thought he really had a crush on you.” Minhyuk clicked his tongue up against the roof of his mouth. “He seriously only came to see you, you know.”

“And to fix his plants. He's a...” Myungjun glanced around the shop at the few customers, then whispered, “A _you know what_. He needs the plants to perform... _you know what_.”

Minhyuk blinked. “Witch? Spells?”

No one in the shop heard, but Myungjun still sighed loudly anyway. “You're the worst.” He took off his apron with a frown. “I'm going to head home for the evening. I had tons of plants today, with or without Jinwoo, and I'm exhausted. You can finish up here, right?”

“Yeah.” Minhyuk nodded his head, then gestured for Myungjun to leave. “You're not much of any help, anyway.”

“Shut up, Minhyuk.” Myungjun stuck his tongue out at the younger boy before waving his farewell and walking out the door.

He took the usual path back to his house, down a few empty back roads, mostly in order to avoid any major locations. Roadkill was more common along the main roads, and Myungjun's heart couldn't handle seeing the poor animals laying there, tossed aside like garbage on the side of the street. He knew he would showcase his powers for the world to see if he came across one of those animals, and he didn't want to cause an issue for his living situation should people take unkindly to a necromancer roaming the neighborhood.

Back roads sometimes housed dead creatures, but it was Myungjun's first time coming across a human, laying face down in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Oh, god,” he mumbled upon noticing the pool of blood surrounding the poor man. “In broad daylight, too.” He sighed and walked forward. He had never brought a human back to life before, and he already knew that it would take quite a lot of energy should he attempt to do so.

He figured calling the police was a better option, so he took out his phone and dialed the number.

They requested a description of the scene and Myungjun inched closer to the man. “There's a lot of blood, I guess, I don't know where it's coming from. He's...short, and he has blond hair, like it's dyed, and-”

The description sounded familiar as Myungjun spoke it, and his heart raced suddenly. Without worrying about the blood, he bent down and rolled the man over.

He dropped the phone. It clattered on the ground, finding home in one of the many puddles of blood.

“Ji-Jinwoo?” Myungjun breathed out. “Jinwoo?”

His face was beaten and blood was everywhere, but Myungjun recognized him instantly.

The movement seemed to have awoken Jinwoo from his state of unconsciousness, and his eyes instantly found focus on Myungjun. They were wide and fearful, seeking out the sort of comfort that he had given to Myungjun just the day before.

But Myungjun had no idea how to comfort a man who was just barely lingering in life.

“Myungjun?” his words were slurred, and there was blood around his lips. Myungjun frantically ran his fingers through Jinwoo's hair, his own breath coming out in quick, harsh movements. Being a necromancer was no good if he could only sit here and wait for Jinwoo to die. Being a necromancer was no good if it meant he couldn't bring forth life until Jinwoo suffered even more.

“Shh, you'll be okay,” Myungjun responded, voice shaking slightly as he looked over the wounds. “Oh, _god_ , Jinwoo, what the hell happened to you?”

Jinwoo winced from some sort of pain, from one of the many wounds covering his body, and Myungjun reached over to hold onto his hand tightly. “I got careless,” Jinwoo responded, and Myungjun had to lean in to hear him speak. “Did a spell down the street f-for this child. Just wanted to cheer the-the child up. She lost her ice cream cone.” Jinwoo was struggling to talk. “And some men followed me here – I was just coming to-to the bakery. I got- I got henbane-” He pointed, and Myungjun's eyes darted quickly to a broken pot on the ground, the dead plant surrounded by piles of soil “-and then- they stabbed me.”

He was crying now, big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and mingling with the blood. “They _stabbed me_.”

“I know, it's okay. You'll be fine, Jinwoo, it's alright.” Myungjun didn't want to call the police again. He didn't want to call an ambulance. Jinwoo wasn't going to last, anyway, and he didn't want to have to sneak in and explain he was a necromancer trying to heal the witch that he had fallen in love with. Something told Myungjun that idea really wouldn't work.

“I'm go-going to die, right?” Jinwoo whispered.

Myungjun didn't want to lie. He nodded his head and swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“Not for long?” Jinwoo asked.

Myungjun took a deep, shuddering breath. He had never brought back a human before. It was possible, certainly, but animals and plants were one thing – he had never attempted something as complex as a human before.

“Not for long,” he promised Jinwoo, and he felt his own tears drip down his cheeks. They landed on Jinwoo's bloodied chest, and Jinwoo gave him a soft smile.

“Don't be-be crying when I wake up?”

“Shut up, Jinwoo,” Myungjun choked out.

He stayed with Jinwoo until he died, bleeding out from the knife wounds that had been created in his chest. And he stayed there, hands hovering over Jinwoo's body, as the energy left Myungjun, as he worked tirelessly to bring the witch back to life, back to perfect health.

“I love you,” he whispered, urging himself on whenever he felt a bit of exhaustion take over. “I love you, Park Jinwoo, I love you more than anything, I love you and I'm going to save you.”

His hands almost slipped from their position, and he begged his powers to hold out, just for a little bit longer.

He had no idea how much time had passed. An hour, maybe two. The sun had already set. He wondered if Minhyuk was worried. His phone was just as good as dead, and he wondered if Minhyuk had tried calling.

He kept his hands hovering above Jinwoo's body as his energy continued to flow out and his eyesight became blurry. When he finally heard a deep inhale of breath, he dropped his hands. “Jinwoo?” he murmured.

Jinwoo was breathing harshly and feeling around at his own body. “Y-You actually did it- Myungjun? Myungjun, are you okay?”

Myungjun had fallen forward. He grasped on Jinwoo's body and buried his head into the bloodied shirt. All he could smell was sharp iron, the garbage nearby, the sweat on both his and Jinwoo's persons.

“Took a lot out of me,” he whispered, and his fingers clenched Jinwoo's shirt.

Jinwoo swallowed thickly and relaxed. “I bet it did,” he responded. “Thank you, Myungjun.”

Myungjun whined and shook his head, denying himself the chance to accept Jinwoo's gratitude. He didn't need it; he just needed Jinwoo's hands to wrap around him, as they did, to hold him closely and tightly.

They lay there together, Myungjun on top of Jinwoo, in the middle of a dark, empty road, both covered in blood and both equally exhausted. After a while, Myungjun heard Jinwoo crying.

“M-Myungjun?”

“Yes?”

“I-I don't want to die again.”

His sobs cut through Myungjun's heart, piercing into him. Myungjun never wanted to let go of Jinwoo, and he closed his eyes and tried blocking out the sounds of the city in the distance.

“I won't let you die again, Jinwoo.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of you mentioned in the comments that you thought i was setting it up for jinwoo to die - i wrote this one a while ago and wanted to tell everyone that they were right, but i also wanted it to be a surprise, so here we go folks.
> 
> send me dollar bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) because next im suing the weather for being so cold.


	7. lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite knowing full well that he hadn't really done anything wrong, Myungjun felt the need to apologize. He had always apologized for his existence. And he always did feel truly sorry for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we slowly easing out of the angst, pedaling onwards to fluff. (tbh i think there's something sad in all of the chapters, but it's going to be outweighed by happiness)

When Myungjun was sixteen, Park Minhyuk moved in next door.

He was eleven years old and took taekwondo, which Myungjun only knew because he would practice in his front yard in uniform constantly. Myungjun didn't pay him too much attention, on account that he was five years older than Minhyuk was and thus five years cooler.

(Except Minhyuk had all of his friends constantly coming by to hang out with him, and Myungjun really did attempt to ignore the bitter jealousy that welled up inside whenever he heard them playing around together, so in the end, maybe Minhyuk was cooler.)

It was the second time Myungjun and his family had to move to change schools, and Myungjun had _hoped_ that his secret would be kept well-hidden here, but he was too optimistic, it seemed. Word got out that a necromancer lived in the neighborhood, and soon even the children at school were pointing to him.

But then, some of the kids said, it could be that Park Minhyuk kid, because he was tough and seemed a little bit different from the rest of his age group.

So what started out as Minhyuk being extremely popular and always inviting tons of friends ended up becoming a situation very similar to Myungjun's life; lonely.

But unlike most normal kids, who would have steered clear of Myungjun, Minhyuk confronted him head on, knocking on his door one afternoon with the grumpiest expression Myungjun had ever seen on some eleven-year old child.

“Are you that necromancer?” was Minhyuk's greeting.

Myungjun sighed loudly and ran a hand over his face. He didn't want to deal with this right now, but it seemed he didn't have much of a choice.

“Why?”

“Because I'm holding a birthday party and I invited my entire class, and _none_ of them came because _all_ of them are scared of the necromancer that lives in our neighborhood! And it's _you_ , isn't it?” Minhyuk crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. “You're the reason I don't have any friends coming over to my birthday party!”

Despite knowing full well that he hadn't really done anything wrong, Myungjun felt the need to apologize. He had always apologized for his existence. And he always did feel truly sorry for it. “I'm sorry, Minhyuk. Happy birthday, though.” He moved to close the door, content on holing himself in his room under his blankets, but then Minhyuk grabbed the door, refusing to allow it to close.

“You have to pay me back for no one showing up to my party!”

“How much do you want?” Myungjun hardly had any money, as it was. He wouldn't mind giving Minhyuk the few coins he _did_ hold in his wallet right then.

“No, I want you to come to my birthday. I'm not going to celebrate it alone.” Minhyuk pointed over at his house. “I have cake, too, and a lot of cool video games to play.”

The offer was tempting, but Myungjun's idea of fun wasn't hanging out with a kid five years younger than him. “No, thanks,” Myungjun responded, and before he could close the door again, the kid huffed.

“Then I'll sit here knocking on your door until you come out.”

“I'll call the police.”

“Are the police going to believe a necromancer?”

Myungjun grit his teeth down and finally accepted. Surprisingly, Minhyuk's angry expression disappeared in an instant, and he was cheerful for the entire visit. Minhyuk's mother wore the angry expression instead as she watched her son play video games and eat cake with the neighborhood necromancer, but Myungjun was used to that by then.

Soon after the birthday incident, Myungjun was banned from Minhyuk's house, courtesy of Minhyuk's mother. Minhyuk would come over to Myungjun's house then, until his mother banned him from doing that, as well. The only time they would ever get to hang out, finally, was the early hours of the morning, when Minhyuk would sneak out through his window and climb in through Myungjun's.

They would stay up all night usually, whispering so as to not wake up Myungjun's parents, and Myungjun would always end their conversations with, “You need to stop doing this, your mom will get mad.”

So when Minhyuk came in late one night with bruises on his face and an explanation of, “I think my mom figured out,” Myungjun felt the guilt well up inside of him.

As soon as Minhyuk was of age to leave his parents, Myungjun accepted him as a roommate, and he had never regretted the decision to do so.

Especially when he arrived home covered in Jinwoo's blood and knocking weakly on the front door to their apartment space.

Minhyuk answered with the first knock, looking extremely worried. “I tried to call but – holy _shit_ , Myungjun, what the hell happened?! You're _covered_ in-”

“I know.” Myungjun shuffled inside and instantly began removing his shirt. He wanted to get away from the blood. He _had_ to get away from the blood before he panicked again. “Minhyuk, please grab me a garbage bag.”

Minhyuk's eyes were wide and Myungjun could tell the boy was full of questions, but Minhyuk simply nodded and grabbed a bag for Myungjun to put his clothes in. The shirt went in first, then the shoes and socks, and finally his pants.

“None...none of the blood is yours?” Minhyuk spoke finally, quietly, looking Myungjun over with concern in his gaze.

Myungjun shook his head, and then headed off to the bathroom.

“Then whose-?”

“Jinwoo,” Myungjun responded, and he started the shower. Minhyuk followed behind, closing up the garbage bag. His eyes were still wide.

“Jinwoo?”

Myungjun climbed into the shower, sighing in relief when the hot water rushed over him. He just nodded his head, choosing to not yet respond to Minhyuk's inquiries.

When Myungjun finished scrubbing all of Jinwoo's blood off of him, Minhyuk was ready with a towel. And when Myungjun slipped and fell on the bathroom floor due to sheer exhaustion, Minhyuk was there to prop him up. He helped Myungjun dry his hair, helped him change, and helped him to his bed.

“I'm so sorry, Minhyuk,” Myungjun murmured, his eyes closed. Minhyuk shushed him, but Myungjun continued regardless. “I'll explain it tomorrow, I promise, I'm just so tired. I'm so sleepy.”

“You must be,” Minhyuk responded, pulling the covers up to Myungjun's chin. “Just get plenty of rest. Don't worry about the bakery tomorrow, I've got it covered.”

Minhyuk, Myungjun realized, was too nice. Minhyuk deserved everything in the world, and yet Myungjun couldn't offer his best friend a single thing.

And when Myungjun woke up in the middle of the night, sleep plagued with nightmares, all he could think of was, _I need Minhyuk_.

Minhyuk hardly ever slept in his room, usually choosing instead to fall asleep on the couch, and so Myungjun went there first. Sure enough, Minhyuk was curled up in a blanket.

“Minhyuk?” Myungjun whispered.

Minhyuk sighed and groaned out, “What?”

“I can't sleep by myself right now. Can I sleep with you?”

“You're twenty-five, hyung, don't you think you're a bit old for that?”

When Myungjun didn't respond to the little quip, Minhyuk pressed himself up against the couch, allowing Myungjun to lay down beside him.

Myungjun still didn't sleep. He listened to Minhyuk's quiet breathing for a few minutes before whispering, “I wish magic didn't exist.”

“Mm.”

“And I wish we never met, so that way you wouldn't have gotten hit by your mom all of the time because of me.”

“Mm.”

Myungjun stared at the back of Minhyuk's head, at the mussed hair that was likely to be sticking up in all directions come tomorrow morning.

“And I wish I had never been born.”

Minhyuk was silent. He turned slowly, eyes still closed, and enveloped Myungjun in a hug. Myungjun didn't hesitate to wrap his own arms around Minhyuk.

And if Minhyuk noticed the snot and tears that began to gather in his shirt, he didn't mention it.

Myungjun didn't remember falling asleep, but he must have been sleeping deeply. When he awoke, Minhyuk was gone, having left behind a note that read, _I can open the bakery today – you just focus on resting up and coming in whenever you can!_

Myungjun would have cried again at Minhyuk's goodness, except he felt like his tears had dried up. Crying wasn't something he did often, and crying for two or three days was a little much for him. So instead he smiled, folded the note carefully, and put it on his dresser in his room.

The moment Minhyuk would act like a twit again, Myungjun would read the note and remind himself that Minhyuk was really just a big sweetheart, and that he did _not_ deserve to have Myungjun's dirty underwear thrown his way.

He arrived at the bakery with a wide smile on his face, which Minhyuk returned.

“Any _clients_?” was Myungjun's first question, choosing to ignore the events that had taken place the previous evening. Minhyuk seemed to understand Myungjun's reluctance to talk about such heavy topics, because he just nodded his head, then gestured at the back room.

“Jinwoo's there.”

Myungjun lost his smile. “Jinwoo?”

“I tried calling to let you know, but I forgot your phone's in that garbage bag. He was already here when I came in earlier this morning.” Minhyuk shrugged his shoulders. “He has two boxes this time, I don't know if-”

The necromancer didn't wait to hear the rest of Minhyuk's statement. He hurried into the back room – sure enough, Jinwoo was already seated with a small pot in front of him and two boxes on the floor beside him. When he noticed Myungjun's sudden arrival, he waved a hand nervously.

“He-Hello.”

Myungjun shut the door behind him and responded, “Hello.”

An awkward silence fell. Myungjun wasn't sure what to say. After they had finally gotten up the previous night, Jinwoo mentioned that he should be getting home to arrive before his roommate, so as to ensure no one else saw the blood stains on his clothes. And Myungjun had stood there as Jinwoo gave him a hug quickly and then rushed off down the street, keeping to the shadows just in case anyone was around.

He had died yesterday, but he looked just as terrible today. His face was still bruised slightly (“They kicked me when I was down,” Jinwoo muttered when Myungjun had gently touched some of the wounds) and he seemed shaky, as if he hadn't slept at all.

“Are you okay?” Myungjun whispered.

Jinwoo nodded at first, then stopped and shook his head. “I, um, I didn't arrive home before my roommate,” he muttered. “And I suck at lying, and I...had to tell him the truth.” Jinwoo played with his fingers and didn't look up at Myungjun. “He told me he wouldn't tell anybody, but he kicked me out.”

Myungjun stared at Jinwoo, and the witch continued. “So if I could stay here for the time being, that'd be okay. I brought my clothes and a blanket, so I don't mind-”

“You can stay with me,” Myungjun decided quickly, grabbing the pot away from Jinwoo. “Minhyuk never sleeps in his bed, so you can use that. Just cook us breakfast in the morning and that's payment.”

“I'm not intruding on you like that! Seriously, I can sleep in this back room.You've done enough for me, Myungjun.”

“I'll _never_ do enough for you,” Myungjun responded, and he hovered his hands over the plant Jinwoo had brought. “You're staying with me.”

Jinwoo shifted in his seat. “Minhyuk might not like that idea.”

To prove him wrong, Myungjun called out, “Minhyuk!” And then, in a regular, inside-voice, stated, “Minhyuk seriously won't care, Jinwoo.”

“But I'm a witch-”

“He helps me run a shop where all different sorts of magical creatures come inside, and I raise things from the dead,” Myungjun responded. “I'm not lying, he _doesn't care_.”

Jinwoo bit his lip and Myungjun looked up at him. “Stop worrying, Jinwoo.”

“I'm a little low on money right now-”

“Keep grabbing my butt, that sounds like a good rent to me.”

He quite enjoyed seeing the blush pop up on Jinwoo's face, but he couldn't even comment on it right then, due to the fact he was more concerned with making certain Jinwoo would have Minhyuk's permission. “Where is that twit?” he mumbled, and yelled out once more, “Park Minhyuk, come here!”

It took a few seconds for Minhyuk to finally poke his head through the door. “I have an order of cookies I'm working on, Myungjun. What?”

“Can Jinwoo live with us until he finds a new place?”

Minhyuk blinked, seemingly confused, but then nodded his head. Before he went back to his baking, however, he pointed a finger at Jinwoo. “No turning me into a toad, you hear me?”

“He won't!” Myungjun smiled brightly, and when Minhyuk left (after shooting Jinwoo one last glare), Myungjun excitedly turned to Jinwoo and couldn't help but let his smile stretch into a grin. “I'll like having you nearby,” he said. “You won't get into any trouble on my watch.”

Jinwoo cleared his throat and put his hands in his lap. “You promised I wouldn't die again.”

Myungjun finished bringing Jinwoo's dead plant back to life, proud that he recognized this one; white lilies. They were bright against the dark soil, a sure change from the wilted mess that they  _had_ been. 

His smile turned softer and he moved his own hands away from the lilies before pushing the pot over to Jinwoo.

"And you won't die again. Not while I'm around."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS HAVE MADE ME BEAUTIFUL FANARTS. please dont even send dollar bills today, just go check all the fanarts people have made me and please gush over them, they make me cry: [it's still my tumblr but check out this beauty](http://vonseal.tumblr.com/tagged/fanart). (the first four pieces are ones based off this trashy fic i've developed and i legit sit at work and get the notifs and just stop working for an hour bc im so emotional)
> 
> i also cry at all these nice comments people leave me. like, you guys just validate my existence i love all of you <3
> 
> this is too emotional so can i just say holla for a dolla?


	8. cherry blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He told no one about his crush, not even Minhyuk. He kept it to himself, the smiles and the three seconds a day he saw the boy, wrapped only inside of his own heart and mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first kisses????

When Myungjun was eighteen, he had his first crush on a boy.

It had been a gradual thing. The boy was Myungjun's age and would smile at him every so often. Perhaps it was the first act of kindness anyone other than Minhyuk had _shown_ to Myungjun, but whatever the case, Myungjun latched onto that smile. He wanted to see it every waking moment of every single day, and he actually began looking forward to going to school, if only so the boy would smile his way once again.

Myungjun had dreams of the boy being by his side forever.

His parents noticed a change in Myungjun's attitude. He was happier and brighter than he had been before. He was still ridiculed by his classmates and the teachers, but then he would walk down the hallway to his next class, and the boy would be passing the other way, and he would smile.

Myungjun soon began to smile back, lips stretching out across his face from his full grin. He would wave sometimes, too, and the boy wouldn't wave at him, but he would duck his head with the same, familiar smile that Myungjun had grown to love and cherish.

He told no one about his crush, not even Minhyuk. He kept it to himself, the smiles and the three seconds a day he saw the boy, wrapped only inside of his own heart and mind.

He had only expected the crush to be kept to those simple glances in the hallway, so he was rather surprised when the boy came up to him one day and, seemingly embarrassed, asked Myungjun, “This Friday, do you want to go out with me?”

A few students nearby looked just as shocked as Myungjun was sure _he_ looked. “Out? With...with you?” He didn't even know the boy's name.

And he didn't think to ask. He agreed rather quickly, nodding his head with enthusiasm, and had written down the address of where they were supposed to meet.

All he told his mother before leaving that Friday was, “I'm just meeting up with a classmate. We have to work on a project together. They seem nice, though, so I think it'll be okay.” His mother, while terribly worried, let him go with a quick hug and a reminder to be home by eleven that night.

Myungjun had left early, taking the bus and trying to calm his jittery nerves. It was his first date. It was the first time anyone had shown any sort of interest in him. He didn't even know how he should act; did the boy know he was a necromancer?

The bus arrived at the location the boy had given Myungjun, and he was confused that there were no buildings nearby. There was just a forest ahead, and Myungjun stared inquisitively out at the trees.

“Myungjun?”

He spun to see the boy standing nearby, then broke out into a relieved smile. Before he could say anything (he still needed to ask for a name), the boy gestured to the forest. “Let's go!”

“In there?”

“I have something really cool I'd like to show you. It's a secret place for me, and I think you'd enjoy it.” He held out his hand suddenly, and Myungjun looked down at it. The boy's fingers wiggled. “You're supposed to hold my hand, Myungjun. Haven't you been on a date before?”

Myungjun blinked. “Oh! Yeah! Loads.” The palm of his hand was sweaty, but the boy held on tightly, anyway. His fingers were long and slender, and they wrapped around Myungjun's hand nicely.

Myungjun felt himself blush and he had to look down in order to hide his smile.

Once at the edge of the forest, Myungjun cleared his throat. He was beginning to get a sinking feeling in his gut; this entire situation was starting to seem weird. “What's your name?” he asked.

The boy didn't answer _that_ question. “It's not too deep into the forest.”

It was dark outside, though, and the forest looked creepy. Myungjun slowed and finally came to a stop.

“Why won't you tell me your name?”

An emotion passed over the boy's face, and Myungjun picked up on it instantly; irritation. The boy was irritated. But was it directed at him? And if it was, why? Myungjun felt like he deserved to know the name of the boy he was going on a date with.

He wondered if he had only accepted because he was starving for attention.

The boy suddenly leaned in close to him. He was taller than Myungjun, and the irritation was gone, replaced instead with a sullen stare. “Myungjun, do you trust me?”

Myungjun stayed quiet, eyes wide as he looked up.

“Myungjun-” The boy was close, and without even asking, without even giving any sort of indication, the boy kissed Myungjun.

It wasn't a chaste kiss. It was deep, sensual, and Myungjun felt his eyes close and his knees go weak. He didn't know _how_ to kiss back, didn't know how to move his lips, but the boy seemed fine enough doing it all himself.

When he pulled back, Myungjun was certain his lips were bruised.

“Myungjun, do you trust me?”

Myungjun nodded his head, feeling very much like he was in a daze. The boy smiled, that same, familiar smile Myungjun had grown to adore, and then pulled him deeper into the woods.

“I've wanted to kiss you for a long time, Myungjun,” the boy said suddenly as they walked. “I wish you had been more responsive to my kiss.” He glanced over at Myungjun. “Didn't you say you've been on loads of dates?”

Myungjun struggled to formulate a response. “I...yeah,” he responded. “But, um-”

“Was this your first kiss?”

He must have hesitated for too long, because the boy suddenly began giggling. “No wonder you couldn't kiss back very well.”

Myungjun was pleased it was dark out, because the night enveloped most of his face and hid his blushing rather well.

At some point, the boy stopped suddenly. They were in the middle of a clearing with a shovel nearby. Myungjun blinked at the shovel, trying to figure out why it was just laying out in the open like that. It was then he noticed a small area that had been dug away, and when he peered through the darkness at it, he realized it was dug out quite like a grave was.

“What's-?”

“You know this sight very well, don't you?” When the boy spoke again, his words were harsh, and he suddenly shoved at Myungjun. “Did you _honestly_ think I was going out with you? You're a _necromancer_. You practically _live_ in graves, don't you?”

Myungjun stumbled forward but managed to catch himself from falling. He felt like an idiot. He had truly believed that someone was showing some form of interest in him, and that earlier excitement he had welling up in his stomach had all plummeted. It was nothing more than a lie. He felt sick.

The boy pointed at the grave. “Get in.”

“What?”

“I said _get in_!” The boy was walking over to Myungjun. Myungjun stepped back, his eyes wide. “Or I'll _make_ you get in there.”

Myungjun didn't know how to protect himself. The boy lunged and had grabbed him, twisting his arm until Myungjun had cried out, and then began to push him toward the grave. Once they were close enough to the ditch, Myungjun noticed a makeshift coffin, opened and awaiting him, laying inside of the grave.

His heart hammered in his chest and he doubled his efforts to get out of the boy's grip.

“You magic creeps aren't _normal_ ,” the boy snapped viciously. “You don't deserve life! You're a threat to _everyone_!”

Myungjun wanted to ask how he was a threat. After all, he just brought back flowers and animals from the dead; how did he threaten society? The unfairness of it all overwhelmed him, and with a renewed determination to _not_ be shoved into a coffin and suffocate to death, he managed to spin around and knock the boy off of him.

“Do you think it's smart to mess with a necromancer?” he asked, trying to quell the shaking of his voice. “We can kill things just as well as we can bring them back.”

The boy faltered, and Myungjun felt pleased; his bluff might work in his favor. “You're lying.”

“Want to find out?”

“There's no fucking way.”

Myungjun stretched out a hand and the boy stepped back. “When we bring things back to life, _death_ enters our body. We can dole out this death anytime we want to. So, basically, I can deliver to you what I took from some stray cat I found on the side of the road; I gave the cat life just as well as I can give you death.”

It was nothing but a lie; even if Myungjun was able to kill people, anyway, he already knew he wouldn't dare use such dangerous powers.

At least the boy believed him, though. The boy cursed at Myungjun as he turned to run, yelling over his shoulder, “You're _dead_ if you show up to school, you freak!”

Myungjun stayed out there by himself for a while. He allowed himself to cry over his first kiss, and when he finally arrived home, he managed to put on a smile and fool his mother into thinking everything was fine with him.

He dropped out of school the next day. The school administration didn't mind very much. They were probably happy to see him go. And his parents, while disappointed, understood his reasoning. He worked at a gas station further from home where no one knew his secret, and he kept to himself from then on.

And if someone smiled his way, he ignored it.

He had blocked much of the first date out of his memory, so when he was walking home with Jinwoo and Minhyuk, one of Jinwoo's boxes in his arms, and was asked by the witch, “Myungjun, have you ever had your first kiss?” it left an unpleasant feeling in his stomach.

Minhyuk scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Would anyone kiss a necromancer?”

“You haven't had your first kiss, either, you little twerp,” Myungjun shot back, glaring over at his friend. “And you can't even use the excuse of magic, it's just that you're ugly.”

Minhyuk stuck his tongue out at Myungjun; Myungjun did the same back to Minhyuk.

“Anyway,” he mumbled when he was certain Minhyuk wouldn't make any more quips. “Why did you ask?”

Jinwoo gave Myungjun a small smile, soft and unsure, then shrugged. “Just wondering.”

“Is it because you want to be my first kiss?” he asked teasingly, and Jinwoo blushed.

“No.”

“You've already grabbed my butt. That was nice.”

“You said you've gotten your butt grabbed before, though.”

“Yeah, it was when Minhyuk got drunk for the first time-”

Minhyuk tried to kick at Myungjun, but Myungjun gleefully dodged it, managing to be quick even while holding a box of Jinwoo's clothes in his hands. “I thought you took taekwondo, Minhyuk! Gotta be faster than that!”

Minhyuk's next kick landed, and Myungjun had to limp the rest of the way home.

“Have _you_ had your first kiss, Jinwoo?” Myungjun asked, acting as pitiful as possible in order to make Minhyuk feel guilty for hurting him (it didn't work – Minhyuk just giggled brightly at Myungjun's current state of physical ailment).

Jinwoo pursed his lips, then mumbled, “I kissed your forehead.”

“Yeah, like, three times. Man, that was nice. Can that be our first kiss?”

“It has to be on the _lips_ , Myungjun,” Jinwoo responded, very much matter-of-factly, and Myungjun made a face at him.

“Fine. Can we _have_ our first kiss soon?”

“Guys, I'm still here,” Minhyuk groaned, trudging along beside Myungjun. “And I know you two are going to be real handsy since we're all living together now, but _please_ , spare me all this kissing nonsense. I'll accept the sex you two will inevitably-”

He didn't say anything else. He ducked suddenly, hiding behind a garbage bin and ignoring Jinwoo's complaints of, “We're not having _sex_ , I'm sleeping in _your_ room, I'm never going to _touch_ Myungjun!”

Myungjun, too, ignored Jinwoo's complaints and stared down at his friend. “Minhyuk? Are you alright? I know you're full of trash, but this isn't your home. Home is right in front of us.”

“Shut up!” Minhyuk hissed, and he peeked out from over the top of the trash can. “Sanha is there!”

“Sanha?” Myungjun looked up again. The tall kid from next door was just entering his own apartment. He hadn't seemed to notice the peculiar group with boxes standing nearby, and when the door shut behind him, Minhyuk gave a loud sigh. “Oh!” Myungjun announced loudly, and turned to Jinwoo with a large grin. “He's in love with that tall, dorky kid. They've never spoken, but they both run away whenever they see each other. Isn't it adorable?”

“Shut up, Myungjun!” Minhyuk was out from his hiding spot now, brushing himself off and trying very hard to retain his cool composure.

But Myungjun wasn't helping with that. “I told him he needs to go over and grope Sanha's butt, but he just got real embarrassed and couldn't talk, but I _know_ he was thinking about Sanha's cute, little butt, I don't even need Dongmin for that-”

Minhyuk was storming off, and Myungjun watched proudly. It was payback for kicking him.

“Did you make him angry enough?” Jinwoo asked as Minhyuk slammed the door shut to their apartment.

“Mm, he's gotten angrier before.” Myungjun giggled and glanced over at Jinwoo. “Seriously, though, why _were_ you asking about first kisses?”

“I can wonder, can't I?” Jinwoo defended himself. “Anyway, like you mentioned earlier, I groped your ass, and I also kissed your head, and then you laid on top of me for a while last night, so I think I'm a _little_ curious about how far you've gone with other people.”

Myungjun hummed lightly and stared over at his apartment. He wondered if Minhyuk had locked them out yet, but he wasn't willing to leave the conversation to try opening his door. “I have had a first kiss.”

“Really?”

“It was all a trick, though. Never even got the kid's name. He set it up to try and push me into this grave he dug.” He noticed Jinwoo's horrified expression and he laughed. “He built this stupid coffin, Jinwoo, it's fine. It was dumb and he didn't even _do_ anything in the end. All that work, the guy kissing a necromancer, and he ran away like a baby.”

Jinwoo gave a deep intake of breath. “Still,” he murmured. “I wish you hadn't gone through something like that.”

Myungjun shrugged his shoulders. “Well, if possible, I can totally erase that first kiss. It didn't mean anything. It had been a joke on me all along, so, in that case, can we say it never happened?”

“I like that plan.” Jinwoo looked satisfied and returned Myungjun's smile finally. “And when it _does_ happen, not saying who it will be with, but would you prefer cherry blossoms falling around beside us, or no? Is that too much?”

Myungjun raised his eyebrows. “Cherry blossoms?”

“Yeah! I'm not saying _who_ your first kiss will be with, but whoever it is might be a witch and might be able to preform a spell to make cherry blossoms float around us when we finally kiss. Did I say us? I meant, uh, you and the mysterious stranger you kiss.” He noticed Myungjun's exasperated stare and quietly added, “I just watched this drama the other day, and that-”

“If Minhyuk locked me outside with you, I'm going to kill myself,” Myungjun mumbled, and began to walk up to the door.

“Wait, come on, I'm just-”

“The only way you can make cherry blossoms fall around us is if you squeeze my ass again, Park Jinwoo.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no first kisses yet (one that doesnt count emotionally tho lol). sanha will be introduced slightly more next chapter. moonbin, as well. honestly not much though? sorry sanha and moonbin (moonbin will be in the binu sequel more often, and idk, maybe a socky one should be done later down the road)
> 
> SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS ARE SO NICE TO ME im going to find where all of you live and just give all of you love noogies.
> 
> send me dolla bills for plane tickets to come find all of you [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!


	9. rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His parents could finally hold jobs, probably get themselves out of debt, and live the normal lives that he had denied them by being born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sanha and moonbin (slightly more sanha than moonbin) are here, and _do we have a first kiss yet?_

When Myungjun was twenty, he moved out on his own.

Despite dropping out of school, the rumors and finger-pointing never did stop. He was ridiculed on a near daily basis. Students would mock him, businessmen would pointedly stay on the other side of the street, and mothers would pull their young, inquisitive children away while whispering, “He's a necromancer – I told you how terrible they are, stay far away from him.”

He tried to pretend none of it ever reached his ears, that nothing truly bothered him, but it had grown increasingly difficult to brush it off.

The final push came when his father was fired from his job. Myungjun stared at him with wide eyes when he delivered the news at dinner one evening.

“Fired?” Myungjun had asked. “Why? You're the best employee!”

His father had cleared his throat and offered Myungjun a small smile. “The business just needed to make some cuts.”

“Then why not cut the part-time workers? It doesn't make any sense.”

His mother had interrupted then, shaking her head at Myungjun. She looked so much older than she should for her age. Her hair was graying at this point. Myungjun hated the guilt that churned inside of him whenever he wondered if it was all his fault.

The same guilt churned when he heard mumbling from his parents' room that evening. Reminded very much of his childhood, of sneaking to listen to what his parents wanted to keep from him, Myungjun crept out of bed and placed his ear quietly on the closed door.

“-isn't there anyone you can speak to about how unfair it is?” That was his mother, and while she did keep her voice down, Myungjun could hear the desperation.

“Who would help us?” His father was speaking now; he just sounded defeated. “We're supposed to _hate_ magic users! One of my coworkers had a son who could teleport, and when the child was ten, he kicked him out of his house. _Ten_.” His father sighed. “I had managed to keep it a secret for such a long time, but rumors do spread fast here.”

“Did they give you a chance to explain that he's harmless?”

“No. Of course not. Would they listen?” He could hear his father pacing around the room. He hoped his mother wasn't biting her fingernails again; she did have a bad habit of doing so. “They offered me the chance to get rid of him. They said they knew people who could take him off our hands. One of the nicer managers told me I could just tell him to move far away, cut off contact with him, pretend I've never had a son – who the hell do they think they even are? He's my _child_!”

“But what will we do? We have so many payments-”

“I can find a new job.”

“Everyone _knows_. They _know_ our son is a necromancer. How do we find work now?”

Myungjun stopped listening then. He couldn't take hearing any more. The guilt had swelled up inside of him, and when he hurriedly retreated back to his room, he didn't hesitate to stuff his face in his pillow to hide the crying that had come out.

He was ruining the life of his parents. They had sacrificed so much for him; they had no friends, they were in debt from constantly moving, and now they were faced with the possibility of living on the streets.

It was a hard decision to move out, but Myungjun knew he had to. He chose a town far away, small and quaint and somewhere his parents would never consider looking.

He didn't tell them. He left a note in his room the night he packed up and left. He traveled for hours until finally reaching the apartment he had already paid a deposit on.

Minhyuk came later. Even if he never kept up contact with his parents, he _did_ ensure their well-being through Minhyuk. They were worried, terrified, and, in the words of Minhyuk, “They know I know something, hyung. They've begged me to tell them where you are.”

“Don't tell them a thing,” Myungjun had responded, and he cried when he ended the call, staring at a picture frame he had taken from his mother's bedside table the day before he had left, a picture of them all smiling together at the camera, during a time when Myungjun had never been aware of his magical powers.

Soon, Minhyuk would simply give Myungjun messages. “Your mom wants to know if you're eating well. I told her I have no clue where the hell you are, but she knows I know, Myungjun. Eat well for her, okay?”

It hurt his heart, and he was relieved when Minhyuk was finally able to join him. It was better this way. His mother would no longer inquire about his health. His parents could finally hold jobs, probably get themselves out of debt, and live the normal lives that he had denied them by being born.

Besides, now that he had Minhyuk, it wasn't as lonely anymore. Dongmin lived nearby, as well, and having Jinwoo over for a few days was just the icing on the cake.

“Minhyuk?” Myungjun had hung up his phone and glanced over at his friend, who was just coming in from a workout session at a nearby gym. Minhyuk was sweaty and breathing hard still. If he stuck around any longer, Myungjun was worried the rest of the apartment would start smelling just as bad as he did, so he hurried his questioning along. “Have you seen Dongmin's glasses?”

“The mind reader?” Minhyuk blinked, looked around the room, then shook his head. “No.”

“Ah. Damn. He just called and said he had left them here and he was going to send his boyfriend to pick them up.”

“Why can't _he_ come?” Minhyuk dumped his bag on the ground and stretched slightly.

Myungjun shrugged. “He has a case he's working on. Cool detective stuff. Man, I wish I could've become a detective. I could raise people from the dead and get their statements.” He snapped his fingers. “Jinwoo, I'm going to be a detective.”

Jinwoo, plastered to Myungjun's side and flipping through a book, patted the necromancer's leg. “No, I like you coming home and smelling like cookies.”

Minhyuk scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I'm going to shower,” he announced, then pointed at Jinwoo. “Don't even _think_ about having sex with him in the living room. _Or_ in my room, for that matter.”

Jinwoo didn't say anything in response until he was out of earshot. “Why does he think we're going to have sex?”

“I don't know. Want to?”

“Shut up, Myungjun.”

Myungjun giggled and would have probably returned to teasing Jinwoo had the doorbell not rang just then. “Wow, his boyfriend is _quick_!” Myungjun gave a low whistle. He had to push Jinwoo off of him in order to answer the door.

It wasn't Moon Bin, but it _was_ someone Myungjun recognized.

“Sanha?”

That wasn't who he had expected. He cocked his head in slight confusion, offering the younger boy a small smile. “Sanha, hi. Can I help you?”

Sanha peered over his shoulder first before returning the smile. Myungjun _knew_ he was peeking to make sure Minhyuk wasn't around. He wondered if the two boys thought flirting entailed freaking out whenever they caught sight of each other. “Hi, Myungjun! My mom wants to know if you were ever going to return our nice Christmas dish we let you borrow.”

“The nice...? Oh!” Myungjun nodded his head and moved aside to let Sanha in. The boy was tall and lanky and Myungjun wondered why Minhyuk had a romantic crush on someone who looked just like a giant baby. “Yeah, sure, it's somewhere in our cabinets.” He closed the door, and before he moved to grab the dish, he noticed Sanha staring curiously at Jinwoo. “Oh, Jinwoo, this is Sanha, my neighbor. Sanha, this is Jinwoo, my boyfriend.”

“We're not dating!” Jinwoo exclaimed after bowing his head as a greeting.

Myungjun shrugged and nudged Sanha. “ _Future_ boyfriend, then. Here, it's in the kitchen.”

He led the kid over to where his cabinets were and began to rifle through them.

“I asked Mom why we needed them, since it isn't even Christmas,” Sanha said suddenly. “And she said that she's afraid you've broken it, because you're a mess. She called you a mess. But I told her that _Minhyuk_ wouldn't allow you to- why are you climbing on the counter, hyung?”

“It's up here somewhere,” Myungjun mumbled. “Keep going.”

He could feel Sanha's eyes on him, but the boy continued, “And...and I said that Minhyuk would make sure the plate isn't broken, because he's great at that! He's great! And she said she just wanted-”

Sanha didn't get a chance to finish telling his _thrilling_ story. He instead shouted, “Watch out!” as Myungjun lost his footing and fell backwards.

(Myungjun screamed only a little bit.)

Before he could hit the floor and gain a concussion, he felt hands catch him, holding him just above the ground. “Sanha?” He dipped his head back to look.

It wasn't Sanha. It was Jinwoo, except rather than having _actually_ caught Myungjun, he stood just in the doorway of the kitchen with his arms stretched out, clearly having preformed a spell.

Myungjun realized suddenly that he had just been caught by invisible hands in front of Sanha. He panicked and fell out of those invisible hands before scrambling to his feet.

Sanha looked just as shocked as Myungjun would have expected.

“Before you say anything,” Myungjun started calmly, “I have the plate up there-”

“He's a witch!” Sanha screeched, covering his mouth and pointing at Jinwoo. “Isn't he?”

“Only a little.”

“How can you be _only a little_ a witch?”

Myungjun sighed and shot Jinwoo a glare. Jinwoo gave an apologetic smile. “I didn't want you to get hurt,” the witch mumbled, and had Myungjun not currently been preoccupied with making a giant baby relax after having seen some magic, he would have totally kissed Jinwoo.

“Sanha-” Myungjun started again. He was interrupted once more, not by Sanha this time, but by Minhyuk. His hair was still wet from his shower and he wore nothing but a towel around his waist as he ran into the room.

“Myungjun? Myungjun, are you-?”

He met eyes with Sanha then – or, rather, he looked at Sanha's eyes. Sanha's eyes looked at his body. When Sanha noticed his open staring had been caught, the boy gave another screech – and then he was gone.

“Holy _shit_ , where did he – Jinwoo, what did you do?” Myungjun's eyes were wide as he stepped back from the spot where Sanha had been.

When he glanced over at Jinwoo, he noticed that his friend's eyes were just as large as his own. “I-I-I didn't do a thing! I swear, he just-”

“You all saw that, too? Sanha just disappeared?” Minhyuk pointed at where Sanha was standing. “He's gone?”

The doorbell rang again. Myungjun ran his fingers through his hair and felt extremely panicked. “Oh _god_ , there's Moon Bin – Minhyuk, Jinwoo, find Sanha _right now_ , I don't even care if you scream out his name, just _find him_.”

And with that, he swung the front door open.

Moon Bin, Myungjun instantly decided, reminded him of a puppy with that adorably crooked smile. “Hi! Are you Myungjun?”

Myungjun had no idea how much Dongmin had told him. He needed to remain cautious and normal (even with Jinwoo and Minhyuk in the background, one with a spell book in hand and the other wearing only a towel with water dripping down his bare chest).

“Yes,” he responded. “Um, Dongmin just called, but I don't have the glasses. We're looking for them.”

There was another call for Sanha. Moon Bin's smile remained and he tried to peek behind Myungjun. “Why are they yelling for a Sanha?”

“We named your glasses.”

That wiped the smile off, and now Bin just looked confused. “Named my-”

“There's a roach!” Jinwoo screamed suddenly, and Myungjun tore his attention away from Dongmin's boyfriend to look at the scene before him. The couch had been moved and Minhyuk was standing over a small roach with Jinwoo's spell book, ready to smash down on it.

Myungjun's mind raced wildly, and he suddenly realized where Sanha was.

“Stop!” he yelled, and gestured at the bug. “It's Sanha!”

“I thought Sanha was the name of my glasses,” Bin mumbled, but Myungjun ignored him.

“That's not Sanha!” Minhyuk snapped. “That's a roach, and I'm going to kill it!”

Myungjun grabbed his wrist before he could lay the death blow on Roach Sanha. “Stop it. Let me see if it's him first.”

“Why would it be him?” Jinwoo asked, now on the couch and plastering himself very much away from the bug.

“Because I don't get roaches in my apartment. And Sanha disappeared so it's gotta be Sanha.”

He heard Bin mutter something under his breath (“Why are magic users always so weird?”) before bending down to the roach's level.

“Sanha?” he whispered. If this wasn't Sanha, he would feel very dumb later on. “Sanha, if this is you, please turn back into a human. If you don't do it, I'm seriously going to let Minhyuk squash you.”

Three seconds passed and Myungjun was about ready to admit defeat, but suddenly a human appeared in the bug's place.

Sanha was back, his face buried in his hands. “I'm sorry, Myungjun!” he cried out. “Don't tell anyone I'm a shape-shifter!”

“I finally got to meet one!” Myungjun grinned widely and smacked Sanha's shoulder. “I'm a necromancer, Sanha! I never knew you were a magic-user, too! And my boyfriend is a-”

“We're not dating yet.”

“-he's a witch, and Bin over there is a-”

“I'm still waiting on Dongminnie's glasses,” Bin interrupted. He seemed very much unaffected by the reveal of magic users, and so Myungjun nodded his head.

“Right. Um...Minhyuk, go put on a shirt and _pants_ , god, seriously, put on some pants-”

Minhyuk seemed to realize just then that he was basically naked, save for the towel covering him. He blushed heavily and hurried back into the bathroom. Myungjun continued his orders, pointing at Sanha next. “You stay right here, because I'm going to have a long talk with you, and then we'll bake cookies-”

Sanha brightened a considerable amount.

Jinwoo received the next order. “You, do some spell or something to find Dongmin's glasses. Like, I don't know, call the glasses to you.”

The witch made a face and stepped down from the couch. “Fine. I think I can modify one to get all of the nearby glasses in my hand.”

But when he uttered the spell, he seemed to have not taken into account that Myungjun _also_ had glasses. The two pairs, Dongmin's and Myungjun's, raced each other to Jinwoo's hands. Dongmin's glasses were faster – Myungjun's glasses harshly bounced off Jinwoo's hand, which had already grabbed the other pair, and clattered to the floor.

Only Jinwoo gave a gasp when he realized they had broken.

Myungjun pouted over his broken glasses for the rest of the evening. He had sent Bin off with Dongmin's glasses (Bin had left, muttering, “Why is Dongmin friends with these weirdos?”), Minhyuk had gone to buy Sanha ramen from the nearby convenience store to calm him down, and Jinwoo had been in the living room for the past hour, struggling to figure out a spell to fix Myungjun's glasses.

Myungjun just sulked in his room, flipping through one of Jinwoo's many different spell books.

After a while, Jinwoo finally poked his head inside, and Myungjun looked up in hope. “Did you fix them?”

“Not yet,” Jinwoo responded, shaking his head. “Ah, but – I got you something.”

He pulled a rose out from behind his back and walked the few feet over to Myungjun's bed. “Here.”

Myungjun blinked at the sudden appearance of the flower, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you trying to woo me, Park Jinwoo?”

“I'm trying to apologize for breaking your glasses.”

“This rose has thorns in it.”

Jinwoo stared at the rose stem intently before muttering an incantation. The thorns began to shrivel up and Jinwoo glanced over at Myungjun, smiling in pride.

Myungjun was grateful for the kind gesture and had held a hand out to take the rose, but he suddenly giggled. “Um, I wouldn't be celebrating over that spell _just_ yet, Jinwoo.”

“Why?”

“Because now the rose is wilting.”

Sure enough, as soon as the thorns had shriveled up, the rest of the rose started to do so as well. Jinwoo's eyes widened. “What the hell did I even _do_?”

“Give it here.” Myungjun snorted when he was handed the rose, and he placed a hand over it. “I can't believe you're this bad with flowers, Park Jinwoo. Seriously, this is _terrible_.”

“I don't know why I'm this bad with flowers! I can do a lot of other stuff just fine.”

“Well, like we mentioned before, you suck at keeping things alive and I-”

“I suck at staying alive, too.”

Myungjun knew it was said as a joke, but he couldn't help the uneasy feeling in his chest when he had to imagine Jinwoo dying in front of him again. He frowned, and Jinwoo seemed to realize that he might have gone too far.

“But you suck at keeping things dead,” he finished Myungjun's original sentence quietly, then leaned forward. “You suck at keeping me dead.”

“Thank god,” Myungjun muttered, and he puckered out his lips.

“What are you doing?” Jinwoo whispered.

“Waiting for you to kiss me,” Myungjun responded, also in a whisper.

“What makes you think I'm going to kiss you?”

“Jinwoo.”

Jinwoo leaned in the rest of the way. Their noses bumped together and Myungjun giggled.

“Seriously, no cherry blossoms. This rose is enough.”

“I'm not going to argue. The spell to get random cherry blossom petals to fall around us is actually a lengthy one, and I think it'd ruin the vibe if I suddenly started-”

“Oh, for god's sake.”

Myungjun was the one who had to finally kiss Jinwoo in the end. Their lips molded together perfectly, and the rose wilted once more when Myungjun had to stop preforming his magic in order to focus all of his energy on kissing the gorgeous witch in front of him.

He quite liked his first kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no cherry blossoms, but there was a pretty rose!!! (was, until it died again)
> 
> i'm at least going to send all of you a homemade pecan pie, so send me dollar bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) to fund the amount of pecans i will buy


	10. sunflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinwoo sighed. “I thought you were going to kiss me, or do something equally romantic. I didn't know you were going to talk about my butt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER FELLERS, HANG IN THERE

When Myungjun was twenty-three, he met another necromancer.

Minhyuk had just moved in with him and had the brilliant idea to open up a bakery. They worked hard and spent almost all of the money they had earned at other various jobs on securing the building and supplies. Myungjun sat up late through the nights to research how one went about even opening up their own business.

Finally, when the last table was put in and the lights were switched on, Minhyuk had looked around in pride and commented, “I think life will be perfect now.”

Myungjun didn't agree, but he smiled regardless. If life would go well for Minhyuk, then it was good enough for him.

He spent a majority of his free evenings at a nearby bar. Minhyuk exercised often at the gym after they were done working, and Myungjun hated the loneliness that awaited him upon arriving home by himself. The bar he found close to the bakery was dingy and small and probably hadn't been cleaned in a while. All sorts of shady figures hung out there, too, and Myungjun first felt a little out of place being in such a dark location.

After a while, however, he came to appreciate it. No one asked who he was, no one tried to start any small-talk with him, and he was able to just drink by himself, the slight murmur of other bodies close by reminding him that he wasn't _truly_ alone right then.

(He was lonely still, but he wasn't alone.)

Soon after establishing himself as a regular customer, the other regulars became more comfortable with him.

“Three thousand won to heal that cut,” one of the inhabitants of the bar whispered to Myungjun once, and Myungjun glanced over at him with wide eyes.

“E-Excuse me?”

The man was thin and probably homeless, but he grinned widely and gestured to a wound on Myungjun's wrist. “Looks nasty. I can heal it.”

“I can fix it myself.”

“Oh. So you're a healer, too?”

He knew healers were magic users. Not nearly as put down and feared as necromancers were, for obvious reasons, but why would this guy be spouting off that he was a magic user in front of other people?

“N-No, but a bandage will-”

“Three thousand won, and I can heal it instantly.”

Myungjun cleared his throat and glanced around the bar. Despite a few people being within earshot, no one seemed affected by the man's reveal. “I don't think you should speak about your powers so carelessly.”

“Why?” The man laughed. “Everyone in here is either a magic user or at least _knows_ a magic user.”

“Not me.”

“No, you're one, too.” The man wagged a finger in Myungjun's face. “A ne-cro-man-cer, correct?” He spoke each syllable as a separate word and Myungjun's eyes grew steadily larger. “Don't look too shocked, boy. We're magic users. Of course we'd figure you out at some point. You keep to yourself, and we all understand why. People hate necromancers, don't they?”

Myungjun gulped down his beer before responding. “Why didn't anyone tell me?”

“You never seemed interested in us. Besides, we're not very fond of necromancers.” The healer pointed to a man sitting by himself in the corner. He had been getting more and more drunk as the evening had gone on; Myungjun _knew_ he had seen him there before.

“He's a necromancer,” the healer whispered. “He's horrible. He digs up graves and brings people back to life. Uses them for various purposes. He's re-killed a few of them. I think he's shown up in the news once or twice, but he's got a few other magic users working with him. They change his name, identity, and he goes from town to town doing this sort of shit. As if we didn't already have a bad enough name attached to us as is.”

Myungjun swallowed nervously when the other necromancer met his eyes, and he quickly looked away. “He knows you're a necromancer, too,” the healer said, and he gave Myungjun's back a small pat. “Everyone who uses magic here knows it. He's – oh, my, he's coming this way.”

Myungjun glanced back in a panic; sure enough, the necromancer was stumbling over to him, too drunk to even walk straight. When he slammed his hands on the bar next to Myungjun, both Myungjun and the healer jumped slightly in their seats.

“Are you that necromancer, kid?” the man asked, words slurred.

Myungjun didn't know how to respond, but if what the healer said was true, he had already been found out by everyone. So he nodded his head, keeping his eyes downcast.

The necromancer ran a hand through Myungjun's hair. Myungjun tensed.

“I bet you know what it's like, isn't it?” The necromancer took the empty seat to Myungjun's right. His fingers were rough on Myungjun's head as he continued to comb through the hair. “Necromancers like us are spit upon. The world hates us for a power that's so _beautiful_. We can bring _anyone_ back to life! We can make _anything_ happen!”

Myungjun tried to get up to leave but the necromancer snatched his wrist.

“Let go,” Myungjun snapped.

“Or what?” The man giggled and also stood. “You look like someone who's been beaten down his whole life. You didn't have friends, did you? You had to go to school with teachers who hated your guts. You were mocked. Teased. And for what? For your _power_.”

“Let go.” His demand was weaker this time, and he glanced over at the healer for help – the healer just shrugged his shoulders. All eyes were on him, and he turned back to the necromancer.

“You should come with me.” The necromancer's free hand went to his cheek, patting it and stroking it. Myungjun winced as if he had been hit. “You can use your power, and you won't fear who will find you. You can be _great_. You can bring _anyone_ back – and then you can get rid of them if they're not worth it. How about those people who made your life hell? We can get rid of them, and you can bring them back, and we can get rid of them again – over and over, until they live through the same agony you had to.”

Myungjun was finally able to shake off the man's hands, and with a deep breath, he shook his head in refusal.

This seemed to confuse the necromancer. He narrowed his eyes. “You're going to live in fear, like the rest of these magic users? Really? Don't you want to be _great_ for once? Don't you want to rise above anyone who would dare put you down?”

“I don't want to _hurt_ -”

“After all they did to _you_?” The necromancer scoffed, and he crossed his arms over his chest, swaying ever so slightly. “You're a coward, is what you are. You're too afraid to fight back.”

Myungjun swallowed thickly. “Maybe. But I also know what it feels like. I wouldn't wish it on anybody.” He moved to leave. Once more, the necromancer grabbed his hand, keeping him still.

“Two necromancers is better than one,” he murmured. “I can bring back _so much more people_. I'll help bring back whoever you want me to. Did you like your parents? Were you one of the lucky ones with kind, understanding parents? What happens when they die? You might run out of energy trying to bring them back.” He hit himself in the chest, swaying all the more. “ _I_ can help! _We_ can help each other.”

“I said to _let go_.” Myungjun tore himself free from the necromancer's grip. “I'm not bringing _anyone_ back from the dead, _ever_. They should just stay dead; that's how the world works.”

The bar was quiet now, and the necromancer gave a smile.

“You'll change your mind. And you'll like how it feels when you realize how much power you have.”

He allowed Myungjun to leave finally, but as Myungjun hurried home, the words stuck with him. They haunted him, even as he spread the news in the bar of his _new_ business and, with his eyes on the other necromancer, made it certain that he would only bring back animals and plants, _not_ humans.

The other necromancer had snorted and downed a beer.

He was on the run from police again two weeks after Myungjun's secret service came about. He stopped by the bakery, too, heading to the back room and offering Myungjun one last chance to follow him.

Myungjun responded quickly: “No.”

“You'll regret it when someone you love is laying on the ground, dead or dying or a pile of ashes.”

Myungjun could only think of his parents and of Minhyuk then; but Minhyuk was strong and could take care of himself, and his parents were far away – Myungjun hadn't heard anything from them in years.

“I guess I'll regret it, then,” he replied in a mumble.

He never did see the necromancer again, but two years later, Myungjun woke up in a sweat.

The nightmare had been a recurring one since he had met the necromancer. He dreamed of having taken the offer to showcase his powers. He dreamed of finding those old classmates and neighbors and teachers and anyone who had ever made his life miserable, and he dreamed of their deaths, of rising them from the grave and having them beg and grovel.

He dreamed of himself as a monster, of his powers overwhelming him until he was nothing more than a necromancer, until he lost his name and identity and became like the man he had met in the bar.

He hated that dream, and this time especially, the imagery was all too real.

Myungjun ran his fingers through his hair. His shirt was stuck to his back, and he had to pull it away and fan himself slightly in order to calm down.

“Jin-” He turned to the space in his bed where Jinwoo _had_ been before he had fallen asleep, but it was empty now.

It was probably the fact that he had just woken up, or the dread that still rest in his heart from his nightmare, but he panicked and stumbled out of bed. Where _was_ Jinwoo, and why wasn't he right beside Myungjun?

He hurried out of his room, quite ready to throw on his shoes and search everywhere he could outside of the apartment, but he didn't have to do that. Jinwoo was in the living room, dozing off on the couch with his open spell book on his lap.

Myungjun had to stop the hammering of his heart before speaking. “Jinwoo?”

The witch blinked his eyes open and took a few seconds to actually focus on Myungjun. “Hm?”

“What are you doing out here?”

Jinwoo yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Sorry. I didn't want to wake you. I wanted some water to drink, since I woke up and my throat was dry, and then I stubbed my toe on the way back and I wanted to find a spell to make it stop hurting so much.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess I fell asleep. I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Myungjun breathed out in relief before shaking his head. “No. No, but, um...maybe we should go back to bed. I mean, it's cold out here, and it's...warmer under the blankets.”

Jinwoo smiled sleepily and set his spell book aside. “Sorry the living situation has turned out more permanent than I thought it would.”

“Why are you apologizing for it? I get to see you everyday.”

“I have plants everywhere, though.”

“Yeah, and I noticed you also killed half of them off again, so guess what I'm doing tomorrow?”

Jinwoo looked only a little sheepish, and Myungjun snorted when his boyfriend stood up and shuffled over to him. “Sorry.”

Myungjun kissed Jinwoo's cheek, then mussed up his hair even further. “Don't be. I like bringing flowers back to life. It's quick and it doesn't use up too much of my energy. I'll just go slowly, too, and we can spend the day bringing flowers back and you can try and work on some of your spells.” He hooked arms with Jinwoo as they went back into Myungjun's bedroom.

“I've never gotten the chance to freely practice my magic too much,” Jinwoo murmured. “I'm sorry if I'm still bad. I'm working on it.”

“You really need to stop apologizing.” Myungjun gave Jinwoo's nose a kiss this time before laying him on the bed. “Is your toe alright?”

“It doesn't hurt anymore, at least. I might be too tired to remember the pain of it, though.”

Myungjun gave a small chuckle. He laid down beside Jinwoo, then tossed the covers over both of them and snuggled close to Jinwoo's chest.

“Hey, Jinwoo?”

“Hm?”

“Do you ever have nightmares?”

There was a slight pause before Jinwoo responded, “Every night.”

“What are your nightmares about?”

“Lots of things.” Jinwoo shifted in his sleep, wrapping his arms around Myungjun and letting his chin rest in Myungjun's hair. “Mm, when I was a kid, it was about my mom abandoning me. Before she _did_ abandon me, I mean. After she got rid of me, I had nightmares of my aunt tossing me out on the streets. She made me sleep outside if I ever did magic, so I was certain she would also get rid of me one day.” He yawned. “When I left, I had nightmares of the police finding out I was a witch. I don't know what they do to witches, but from the magic users I've spoken to, it's nothing good.”

Myungjun nodded his head, hair brushing up against Jinwoo's neck. “I won't let them find you.”

“I know.” Jinwoo was smiling – Myungjun could tell from his voice, and he smiled into Jinwoo's chest. “Recently, my dreams are about me dying again and you're not there this time.”

“Recently? You have nightmares still?”

“I had one – that's why I went to grab some water in the first place.” Jinwoo gave a light laugh. “I'm a coward, right?”

Myungjun held on tightly to Jinwoo. “Was it about you dying? And-and me not being there?”

Jinwoo was quiet, and Myungjun assumed he had fallen asleep, but then he heard his hushed response. “You were there. Your powers were gone. You were normal.”

A good dream for Myungjun would have been him as a _normal_ person. A good dream would have been Myungjun without any powers whatsoever.

Jinwoo's nightmare, it seemed, was a normal Myungjun, a Myungjun without powers.

Myungjun sighed. “Oh.”

“It was stupid. I-I know you want to be normal, too. I want you to be normal.”

“No, you don't.”

Jinwoo hugged Myungjun tighter. “Only if I can be normal with you.”

“And that's the only way it _should_ be. If you have magic, I'm going to have magic, too. I won't ever let you suffer alone through it. I won't let you deal with that life all by yourself.”

He heard Jinwoo give a small giggle. The witch moved his head in order to kiss Myungjun's temple, lips brushing up against his hair. Myungjun closed his eyes, feeling a sense of relief wash over him from Jinwoo's tender, gentle touches.

“I had a nightmare, too. Which was why I woke up.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Myungjun cleared his throat and started, “That bar down the street from our bakery – the one with all the magic users – used to have another necromancer. He killed people, and he'd bring them back and kill them again. Anyone who had ever wronged him. And he would travel when the police caught on, and he would change his identity and name and everything, and he would do the same thing in the next town.” Jinwoo's fingers were running through Myungjun's hair now as he listened to the story.

“He asked me to join him, Jinwoo.”

“What?”

“And I said no, but part of me – this tiny, _tiny_ part of me, Jinwoo, thought that maybe some people deserved it. I thought about his words a lot.”

“But you never did anything,” Jinwoo pointed out.

“I know.” Myungjun sighed. “I have nightmares that I do it, though. That I kill people and then bring them back and kill them all over again. I have nightmares that I become like that necromancer, getting drunk in bars and not even having a real name to call himself anymore. He had no one who loved him. He probably still doesn't have anyone who loves him, if he isn't dead yet. And I could have ended up just like him.”

“But you didn't.”

Myungjun wet his lips with his tongue, then pulled away slightly from the embrace to look at Jinwoo. His eyes were tired, and Myungjun knew Jinwoo probably longed for sleep, but at the same time, Myungjun knew he would stay up to listen as long as Myungjun had concerns to press forth. “You could've, too, Jinwoo. You're a witch; you can do _anything_.”

“Except keep flowers alive, apparently.”

The tense emotions Myungjun had felt well up inside were diffused slightly from Jinwoo's humor. He snorted and curled back into Jinwoo's arms. “I'm so glad you didn't,” he murmured. “I know you went through hell because you have powers, but, oh my god, I'm _so glad_ you're here with me today. I'm so glad that you're kind and gentle and you love me as much as I love you.”

Jinwoo's hands clenched the back of Myungjun's shirt, and he buried his face into Myungjun's hair. “I'll always love you.”

Myungjun hummed lightly in response, unable to stop the smile that stretched out on his face. Silence fell, and when Myungjun was sure that Jinwoo was asleep, he glanced up. “Jinwoo?” he whispered. No response. “Jinwoo?”

So Jinwoo was probably asleep, then, and Myungjun grinned. “I love your butt, and I want to grope it.”

“No.”

“I thought you were sleeping!” Myungjun gasped, then he smacked Jinwoo's chest. “Don't pretend you're asleep when I'm whispering to you!”

Jinwoo sighed. “I thought you were going to kiss me, or do something equally romantic. I didn't know you were going to talk about my butt.”

Myungjun gave a small pout before craning his neck to press a small kiss against Jinwoo's lips. “There,” he announced, and his hand moved down Jinwoo's back. “Now I'm going to-”

“Touch my butt and I'm going to use magic to tie you up.”

“That's kinky.”

He wished he had Minhyuk's ability to know when to shut up, because Jinwoo actually _did_ tie him up with a quick, uttered spell. His hands were bound by an invisible rope and Jinwoo looked satisfied with his handiwork.

“If I had know you were into this sort of thing, Park Jinwoo-”

“I'll bind more than your hands if you don't stop.”

Myungjun didn't stop. “-if I had known, I would have researched how to preform better-”

One more quick spell and Myungjun's mouth was clamped shut. Jinwoo wagged his finger in front of Myungjun's face. “I'm trying to sleep, so you just stay like that until I figured you've learned your lesson.”

Which happened to be all of two minutes before Jinwoo released Myungjun from the spell and murmured a few apologies while planting kiss after kiss on Myungjun's face.

Myungjun simply laughed and flicked Jinwoo's forehead. “I just called you good and kind, Jinwoo, and you go and use your magic for these wicked, lewd purposes. Gosh, what am I supposed to do with you?”

Jinwoo blinked, then mumbled, “As revenge, you can grope my butt.”

“ _Revenge my ass_ ,” Myungjun whispered. “You love it, shut up.”

“Fine, don't do it, then.”

“Nope, I think that sounds like good revenge.”

He finally did get to grope Jinwoo's butt, and he was pleased that Jinwoo hugged him close afterwards. He moved his hands to return the embrace, quite enjoying this position all the more, and before he went back to sleep, he heard Jinwoo whisper, “Hey, Myungjun?”

“Mm?”

Jinwoo's lips planted a small kiss on the top of Myungjun's head. “I killed off one of your potted sunflowers on accident. I'm apologizing in advance so you don't have a freak-out when you find it.”

Myungjun sighed into Jinwoo's chest, but he didn't move from his position. “What am I going to do with you, Park Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo was quiet, obviously in thought, then he murmured, “You can enact revenge on me again.”

“Gladly.”

When Myungjun was twenty-five, he fell in love with a witch.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so myungjin witchcraft au has ended. not for good tho. because im totally doing a binu sequel, and after the binu sequel, i'll either do socky or a jinwoo-pov sequel (idk if it should follow along with their meeting, or if it should show their life after they get together, idk if anyone has a preference lol). before that, though, i think a binu college fic is in order, as well as jincha, because i did promise those two fics to a few people and got sidetracked with this, oops. REGARDLESS, please stick around!
> 
> i want to give a shoutout TO ALL OF YOU! you dont know how happy i've been waking up and seeing fanart and such kind comments and i really do adore and cherish everything. i dont even care if all you write is, "WOW!" because WOW right back atcha, thank you for showing interest and making me really excited at my notifications. stay gold, ponyboy.
> 
> also send me dollar bills, as per usual, [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [where soil lies, a new beginning blooms](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642010) by [parkjinwoes (crumblyoaf)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crumblyoaf/pseuds/parkjinwoes)
  * [familiar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12105363) by [parkjinchu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkjinchu/pseuds/parkjinchu)




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